


Looking For A Furr-Ever Home

by The67ImpalaDragonChild



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: Dogs, Dr. Don to the rescue!, Pets, Surgery, The turtles get pets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6616009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The67ImpalaDragonChild/pseuds/The67ImpalaDragonChild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one batted an eye when Michelangelo brought home a kitten. He was always the one to bring home strays. They were a little surprised when Master Splinter said he could keep Klunk, but that's neither here nor there.</p><p>No one ever thought Raph would follow Mikey's example!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tungsten

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that line from the Croods. "A boy's gotta have a pet." It made me start to wonder what sort of pets our friendly neighborhood ninja turtles would have if they could pick (or if something picked them! Y'all know how it is sometimes! You didn't so much pick your buddy as they picked you and hung on like a tick! ). So this is my take on if all the turtles had pets. ;)
> 
> ENJOY!

Thunder rolled across the midnight sky over Manhattan, the ominous rumble strong enough to send tremors through the concrete jungle. Petrichor stained the night air. The city seemed to wait on the edge, holding it's breath, for the fury of the storm.  


Raphael scrambled over the rooftops, praying he could make it home before the storm hit. He didn’t mind a little rain, no reptile did, but tonight was supposed to be a gale of ‘unseasonable strength and ferocity’. Least-ways, that’s what Donnie had said on the phone.  


If they got half the rain that was expected, there was a fairly good chance the tunnels around the lair would become their own version of the white water rapids. Parts of the city might even lose power. No power, no elevator. Flooded tunnels, no sewer entry. Donnie had taken precautions to make sure that their home would be safe from the flood, but there might not be any getting in or out of the lair for several days while the water levels went back down. Master Splinter wanted his family home, together, and safe.  


Apparently so did April.  


Which was why Raph’s night out with Casey had been cut short, and he was now scrambling over rooftops to make it home before Mother Nature started throwing her little bitch fit. Only a few more blocks to go. He could do it. He could get underground before the heavens opened up and handed down the flood they had been promising all day. He could do it.  


“I’m gonna make it!”  


A shrill scream shattered the eerie stillness that had fallen over the city and the turtle skidded to a halt. Only to make an abrupt U-turn and race back the way he’d come when the shriek split the air again.  


“Damn it!”  


The cries were coming from an alley he’d jumped over only moments before on his madcap race for home. Thunder rolled ominously as he peered down into the ravine between the two buildings, and realized that the scream wasn’t human. A third cry echoed up out of the alley, bouncing off the brick walls. Amber gold eyes narrowed as he peered down into the darkness.  


It was a dead end, littered with the usual assortment of refuse he’d come to expect, overflowing from dumpsters that had reached their limit eons ago. The building across from him seemed to be some sort of mechanical shop, using the alley as their own personal scrapyard. Raph made a mental note to tell Don about this place, they could never have too many places to scavenge for the hardware Don needed. One particular pile in the back corner was exceptionally tall, and it was here that the usually hot headed teen’s attention had been drawn. Laying on it’s side in amongst the rubbish was a motionless form. It suddenly lunged, and another cry rang out, before it sank back down to lay motionless once more. Raph glanced at the thunderheads. It would hold just little bit longer.  


He hoped.  


Praying that he was right, the terrapin scrambled silently down the fire escape. Now on ground level, he could hear frightened whines and pain filled whimpers from the alley’s sole other occupant. Callused feet carried him soundlessly over broken glass and pitted concrete, nimbly skirting around the scattered garbage that would’ve tripped up a less skilled man. His quarry didn’t know he was there until he was a little less than ten feet away.  


It was a dog.  


Dark eyes stared back at fiery amber from the foul smelling pile, wide and terrified. The dog went still, watching the newcomer warily. Raph forced a smile, fumbling out his shell cell.  


“Hey there fella.” He mumbled, flipping the cell open for what meager light it provided.  


He scooted closer, playing the glow over the mess. The dog had been scavenging the pile, Raph could see where it had torn into this or dug out that. He could also see where the pile had shifted, sending the animal sliding down to its current resting place.  


“Oh shell…”  


Twisted, broken, and rusted out metal cradled the dog, several pieces stained crimson. Red gleamed up at him from the puddle slowly growing at his feet. It had to’ve only just happened. Raph shook his head. The dog had landed belly down. It was hard to see through the fur but it looked like the sharp mess had all but shredded it, and its struggles had only made the injuries worse. Lord only knew what sort of harm he'd done his insides with all that thrashing. Gut wounds were always the worst.  


He grimaced. Even if he'd known where to go, there really wasn't anywhere he could take the poor mutt. It was late, well past midnight. None of the shelters would be open at this hour, and even if he managed to get a hold of someone and convince them to open up their practice, the dog would be long dead by the time they got there. Squatting there in the squalor, he knew with an absolute certainty that the easiest thing he could do for the both of them would be to put it out of its misery.  


A soft whimper and warmth on his fingers pulled his attention back.  


The mutt gave another quiet whine and stretched out to nose his hand, gazing up at him with pleading eyes. He fondled the dog’s ear, earning the smallest of tail wags and a quick lick for his trouble. The mutt stretched out a leg to paw at him, leaning harder into the caress at the same time and closing its eyes.  


“Damn it.”  


Thunder rumbled again, and the heavens finally deigned to open up and dump the rain they had been promising for hours now. Raph glared at the sky, as if it had personally offended him, then turned amber gold eyes back to the mutt. He gave a low growl and stood, fetching a worn and ratty piece of burlap from a dumpster. Wrapping it around the dog, he carefully gathered it up as gently as he could.  


“Screw easy. I can’t kill ya, an’ I ain’t leavin’ ya out here ta die in the rain.” The dog whimpered and he hushed it, more gentleness than he would generally allow coming to the surface as he slipped through the shadows at ground level. “Shhh…. It’s alright. I ain’t gonna hurt ya. I’m gonna take ya home and make my brother patch ya up. You’ll be ok.”  


The dog settled, letting him carry it where he pleased. But he could still feel it trembling, could feel the jump and tense of muscle under his hand when too much pressure was applied to an injury, or when he wasn’t gentle enough in his handling. And each time he felt it tense he mumbled something that he hoped sounded reassuring.  


He was almost home before it occurred to him that he could’ve said _anything_ and the dog wouldn’t have known the difference so long as he said it soothingly. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At last he stumbled into the warehouse, soaked, cold and exhausted.  


The rain beat down on the old tin roof with the rolling rumble of an army on horseback, drowning out the dog’s whimpers and even his own labored breathing as he trudged the last few steps into the elevator and leaned his shell back against the wall. He was going to sleep for a month after tonight. The elevator stopped moving and he braced himself, knowing he was going to get an earful as soon as those doors opened.  


Leo didn’t disappoint.  


“Raph! Where have you been? Casey said you left for home two hours ago! And then when we tried to call you didn’t answer your phone! Donnie couldn’t get a lock on the signal with the storm and…”  


As suddenly as it had started, Leo’s tirade ground to a screeching halt and he stared at his brother in horror. Raph was coated in a fresh flow of blood all down the front of his plastron, sliding down his legs and dribbling along his arms. He was clutching something fairly large against his red stained chest with both arms, his skin pale.  


He looked dead on his feet.  


Years of training and experience suddenly kicked in and the eldest turtle leaped into action. “Donnie! Get the first aid kit, Raph’s hurt! Mikey, get your shell over here and help me get him to the infirmary! Now!”  


The youngest turtle flew over the back of the couch and sprinted to the elevator, his immediate older brother making a beeline for the infirmary. Leo was already helping Raph out of the elevator, and Mikey was quick to slide in on the other side. The warmth of the lair and his brothers wrapped around Raphael, heating up his cold blood and helping him wake up a bit. He muzzily shook his head.  


“Guys… guys, I’m fine. I’m just cold.Cold and tired.”  


Mikey snorted, flinging open the door to the infirmary and helping Leo hustle Raph through it. “Hate to break it to you dude, but you’re like, _covered_ in blood! Fountains of blood! You’re _definitely_ hurt! Now be a good little turtle and let Doctor Donnie fix you up. Leo’ll put you to bed, and I can read you a bedtime story, and if you’re really good Master Splinter might bring you a glass of warm milk and tuck you in! And…”  


Raph planted his feet and cut in on his brother’s frantic babbling. “Will you shut the shell up? I’m tellin’ ya, I’m fine! I ain’t the one bleedin’ it’s the darn mutt!”  


“Mutt? What mutt?!” Mikey yelled right back.  


“What do you mean you’re not bleeding, you’re getting blood everywhere!” Donatello’s voice grated against Mikey’s as he came bustling over and tried to help manhandle his brother onto the exam table.  


“QUIET!”  


All sounds and movement in the lair ceased. Leonardo took a deep breath, and slowly let it out.  
He could tell Raph was waking up a bit, he was way more alert than he had been. Too alert for someone who had lost as much blood as Raph supposedly had. That and he was fighting them. None of them liked being on that table, but none of them ever fought back physically either. They'd grumble and fuss, but they knew Donnie was only trying to help them, and so they always sat still.  


Except for Mikey when he needed a shot, but that was a whole other issue.  


“Everyone calm down a little. Clearly we're missing something here.” He looked the hot head in the eye. “Raph?”  


His little brother shrugged, shifting his hold on his soggy, bloody bundle. “I'm not hurt Leo, I'm fine! It's this mutt who's all banged up. I couldn't just leave ‘im out there! I figured maybe Donnie could do somethin’, an’ I'd take him to the shelter afterwards.”  


“You brought home a dog! And you guys say I’m bad about bringing home strays! ...Dude! What’s Sensei going to say?!”  


“Raph, with that much blood loss is it even still _alive_? And what makes you think I know _anything_ about dogs? I…”  


“GUYS!”  


Leo shook his head as three sets of eyes snapped back to him. Honestly, sometimes it was like his brothers were still toddlers. The oldest turtle carefully took the soggy bundle from Raph. It didn’t weigh half as much as he would’ve expected it to, given the size. Probably half starved on top of being hurt.  


More than likely a stray.  


“Give him to me Raph. Donnie, grab what you need. Might as well do what we can. Mikey, take Raphael out of here. He needs a hot shower, food, and sleep. See to it that he gets them, in that order please.” His brothers stared at him. Clearly they hadn’t expected this response. “Guys. _Move_!”  


He didn’t have to tell them again.  


Donatello became all business, quickly laying out the tools and supplies he would need with the efficiency of long experience and even more practice. Needles, silk, scalpels, and clamps. All laid out neatly.  


Leo laid the animal on the table and pulled the ratty old burlap away. A second set of hands joined him, and he wasn’t at all surprised to see Raphael disobeying his orders and staying to help. Despite his very obvious exhaustion. Leo rolled his eyes and returned his attention to their new guest.  


The mutt was still alive.  


He was filthy and blood stained, and unconscious. But he was alive. His flanks still rose and fell in swift, shallow little gasps. Under the harsh fluorescent lights of Donnie’s lab come infirmary, he looked even worse than he had in the alley. Scruffy and thin, missing patches of fur that had apparently been torn out, the dog sported several scars in various stages of healing. Underneath all of the dirt and grime, it was almost impossible to tell what color it had been originally. Maybe brown?  


Raph laid a hand on the dog’s shoulder. “Shell, pooch. You really messed yerself up.”  


Donnie bustled around and gently hip-checked Raphael out of the way. “Go shower Raph, you’re covered in germs. You’ll just be in the way here. Leo, go wash your hands, I’m going to need some help.”  


A smile pulled at Leo’s lips as he headed for the sink. “Go on Raph.” He called over his shoulder, doing his best to reassure his sibling. “You’ve done your part. Now it’s our turn. Besides.” He smirked. “I’m sure Master Splinter will be wanting an explanation once you’ve showered and eaten.”  


True to form, the hot head snorted and stomped out the door without another backwards glance, Mikey at his heels.  


Leo took a deep breath and headed back to the table. He hated this. Poking around in someone else’s guts. At a logical level, he knew that it would be beneficial in the long run, but he couldn’t help the fact that assisting with surgery like this always left him unsettled and sometimes even queasy. He didn’t understand how Donnie did it. Much less be fascinated by it!  


Across the table Donnie heaved a long suffering sigh and set to work. “Might as well see what Raph’s given us to work with….scalpel please….” 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Leo grimaced.  


In the years since he and his brothers had started patrolling topside, they’d had their fair share of injuries. Thankfully, most hadn’t required surgery. But of those that had, unless he was the patient, Leo had stood in as Donnie’s tool jockey. And yes, after long debate ‘tool jockey’ was they term they had settled on. Raph had been the first one to have to do the job, and had discovered that he didn’t like being called a ‘nurse’. Mostly because of all the bad nurse jokes Mikey had made as soon as he’d gotten the chance. Honestly, as ridiculous as the phrase sounded, Raph was happy to have any other title that put an end to Mikey’s teasing.  


Having heard the merciless teasing when he woke up after the surgery, Leo couldn’t help but agree with Raph.  
He rubbed the back of his neck. He was tired. It shouldn’t be so exhausting to stand next to a table for a few hours, hand Donnie whatever he needed, and occasionally put his hand in to hold something out of the way. He shuddered at the thought.  


Yeah, his dreams were not going to be pleasant tonight.  


“How’s the pooch?”  


Oh, right. Raph. Leo smiled. His younger brother played it tough, but he had a soft heart. Raph had little to no emotional attachment to this dog. But here he was, camped out on the living room couch with Mikey asleep on his chest. Waiting for word of the animal he couldn’t leave to die in the rain. He leaned on the back of their worn but much loved old couch.  


“I guess Mikey misunderstood. I’m fairly sure I told him to put _you_ to bed.”  


Raph loosed an undignified snort. “Yeah right Fearless, and pigs can fly.... Ya didn’t answer my question. How’s the pooch? ...Did he make it?”  


Leo sighed. Some days he hated being the oldest. Having to be the one to pass along the bad news sucked. “Yeah, he’s alive. He’s holding on for now, but Donnie’s not sure if that’ll last. Or for how long. He lost a lot of blood, and he was pretty weak and underfed to start with. We’ll do our best bro. But he still might not make it. We just have to wait and see.”  


Raph leaned his head back against the armrest of their dilapidated couch, oddly proud of the mutt for hanging on.  


Mikey mumbled against his chest, nuzzling into the crook of Raphael’s neck. Both of the older terrapins made mock disgusted faces when he promptly proceeded to drool onto the dark emerald skin. Leo gave a soft laugh and produced a cloth from his belt, wiping the mess away. He usually reserved the cloth for drying his katanas after a cleaning or being caught in the rain. But, for a good cause…  


“Thanks.” Raph gave Mikey an irritated look. “Chucklehead.” He grumbled affectionately.  


“Maybe.” Leo agreed. “But he wouldn't be Mikey if he wasn't.” He checked to make sure that Mikey wasn't going to drool any further, then tucked a corner of the soggy cloth into his belt. He'd drop it in the laundry and grab a clean one on the way to bed. “Do you want me to help get him to bed, or are you good?”  


“I'm good. Sides, if we wake ‘im up we'll just have ta listen to ‘im whine about it tonight and all a tomorrow too.”  


That earned him a laugh and a nod. He and Leo might be at each others throats a lot, but it didn't change the little moments like this, where they were brothers first and foremost, and everything else paled in comparison. He watched as the eldest turned to leave, then called after him.  


“Leo?”  


“Yeah?”  


“Thanks.”  


The smile Leo gave him this time was softer, in some way. His smiles were never false, but ones like these were more genuine in a way that no one could ever quite lay a finger on. They said that he understood what his brothers hadn't said. Raphael hadn't put him in an easy position by bringing home that dog. In Master Splinter’s absence, Leo was the head of the clan. The decision to take care of the dog was all Leonardo’s, and if Master Splinter was upset about it Leo would share in the blame with Raphael. It was yet another responsibility Raph had not so much asked him to take as he had dumped on his head. But the leader had shouldered the responsibility gracefully. It would've been _well_ within his right to refuse.  


“You're welcome. Night Raph.”  


“Night Fearless.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Donatello sighed.  


It had taken longer than he'd feared to get the dog patched up. In starting in on the surgery, he'd been pleased to find that the majority of the damage had been done at the surface. Skin, fat, muscle; all had suffered enormous harm. But the body cavity and the fragile organs it housed had escaped the extensive injury the rest of the mutt had taken. The ribs had certainly done their job. The organs weren't damage free by any means, and it had been grueling work to repair them. Between injury and blood loss, Donnie was fairly impressed that the dog had made it.  


He settled down beside his new patient.  


Long jagged lines of stitches criss crossed the dog’s belly. “I've got to say, stitching you up was a job and a half.” He frowned. Muttering an apology, he lifted one of the mutt’s hind legs and peered at the vulnerable lower belly underneath. “Male.” He muttered to himself.  


He put the dog's leg down and picked up a wet cloth. The dog was absolutely filthy, and Donnie hadn't had any time to get him clean before surgery. He'd had to dive right it. He was fairly sure he'd heard a surgeon on TV refer to it as ‘meatball surgery’, the only goal being to keep the patient alive. Nothing pretty. He had the dog on an iv now, giving him pain meds and antibiotics. It would've been better if he'd had blood to replace what he'd lost, but with the storm raging on outside this was the best Donnie could do. He'd have to get the dog as clean as he could with a rag and water, and keep a sharp eye on him for infection.  


He heaved a tired groan and set to work again.  


It never failed. Standing in place and working with his hands wouldn't normally tire him out like this. But the pressure of the situation kept him tense, to the point that actually putting in that final stitch and stepping away from the table was such a relief that it left him physically drained. If the way Leo was shaking himself out when he left was any indication, apparently being Donnie’s “tool jockey’ wasn't any less stressful.  


He hated to make Leo do it.  


Leonardo’s iron control was a fantastic mask, but Donnie could tell that it bothered him. It was in his eyes at the end of every surgery, that quiet knowledge that he wouldn't sleep well that night. But he was the best choice for the job. He handed Don the correct instrument on the first try, and his hands were always steady. Both qualities he needed in a dicey surgery like to tonight. Raph and Mikey tried their best, but Donnie still had to put the tools in color coded bins to help them out, and Mikey actually had to bolt for a garbage can to throw up his supper that time that Leo had been thrown in front of a car. Raph had been missing at the time, and thus hadn't been the one handing over the tools. They'd never asked Master Splinter to do this. Seeing his son's insides couldn't be very high on any parent’s wish list.  


That, and Don dreaded the thought of trying to keep hair from his father’s thick pelt out of the open wounds. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dog slept all through the night, and most of the next two days.  


It worried them, but Don assured them that it wasn't surprising. He needed the rest to heal. Still, he worried just as much, if not more than his brothers did. He knew more about medicine. He had a better idea of what could go wrong. And so he checked on his patient every hour on the dot, carefully monitoring his vitals for any sign of infection or complication. It wouldn’t have been possible if practice hadn’t been cancelled for the first day, and Donnie was allowed to leave practice to check on his patient in the days that followed. Donnie couldn’t begin to express how grateful he was for that small blessing, especially after the long nights he’d put in. But for the life of him, he couldn’t fathom how Master Splinter had been talked into it. Not that he didn’t like animals. In times of plenty when the turtles were small they had often seen him give a scrap or two to the strays he happened across out on a supply run in the sewers. But at the same time, he had never been overly pleased when one of them brought home an animal and asked if they could keep it as a pet.

Master Splinter, though not exactly pleased by the presence of their new house guest, accepted the situation with surprising equanimity. The storm had intensified on the surface. Though they had yet to lose power, the city above had all but shut down. Only the most stoic or foolish of humans would be out and about today. Even if he would have allowed his sons to go topside in this storm, which he wouldn’t, there most likely wouldn’t have been anyone at the shelter to take care of the dog. And it would be cruel to cast it out into the rain once more. The dog would never survive. No. Until they could place the dog in the hands of someone more qualified to care for it, the dog would remain here.  


Speaking of the dog…  


Splinter rose and left his room. It was high time that he went to see this animal that had set his home and family into such chaos. Out in the main lair, his sons were going about their daily lives.  


Michelangelo was on the couch watching the TV, his cat Klunk on his lap. Splinter still wasn’t sure how he had been talked into letting the cat into his home. After all the trouble he’d had with cats throughout his life as a rat, the last thing he had ever thought to do would be grant his son a feline companion. But the little orange kitten and grown up into a large tabby tom cat under his roof, and had been absolutely devoted to Michelangelo. So the rat had decided to live and let live.  


As long as Klunk didn’t bother him, he could stay.  


Raphael wasn’t quite at his usual. He was sitting back to back with Leonardo on the rug, a magazine about motorcycles propped on his drawn up knees while Leonardo meditated. If Raphael’s presence bothered his elder brother, Leonardo gave no sign of it. If the little smile on his face was any indication, it didn’t bother him in the slightest. Every now and again Raphael would chuckle at something he read and would murmur to Leonardo, prompting a larger smile and a nod to let Raphael know he had heard.  


Splinter peered into the infirmary. 

Donatello was looking at the stitches in the dog’s belly. They looked good. No sign of infection so far. The purple clad turtle smirked. Well, that was one advantage to living in a sewer. You learned how to keep cuts clean no matter what. He traced his hand along the mutt’s flank. He would still need a bath when his wounds would allow it, but he was as clean as Donatello could make him for the moment. And now at last his true colors could show through.  
He was beautiful.  


He had a black saddle pattern running from his shoulders all the way down his spine to about halfway along his tail, draping down his sides to cover his ribs as well. A pale golden tan edged the black; marking his hips, shoulders, tail, and cheeks. Black ringed his eyes and dribbled little lines down either side of his muzzle, and his ears were solid with the color. But what really made him striking? Pure snow white fur. It ran around his neck in a thick ruff, and coated his neck, chest, the entirety of his forelegs, his belly, the insides of his hind legs, his back paws, and the majority of his tail. A stripe of it ran down his forehead to completely coat his muzzle, completing the look.  


A small movement caught his eye. The dog’s tale had moved! His eyes snapped up to the dog’s face.  
The mutt watched him, curiously flicking an ear his way. Donnie offered his hand for the animal to sniff. He held his breath, hoping that the pain of the dog’s injuries wouldn’t make him aggressive enough to savage his hand. But the mutt did no such thing. He politely sniffed at the offered hand, wagged his tail a little more strongly this time, and gave Donnie’s hand the smallest of licks. The turtle relaxed, a smile warming his face.  


“Hey boy.” He murmured. “You gave us all quite a scare. You feeling better?”  


The dog made a contented noise and gave that tiny tail wag once again. He was warm for the first time in a long time, and even though his tummy still hurt, instinct still told him he was safe.  


These strange turtle humans wouldn’t do him any harm.  


Donatello moved his hand up to scratch behind the mutt’s ear, laughing when the dog made an appreciative groan and leaned into the attention as hard as his weakened body would allow. He whined when Don took his hand away, but that was short lived when he realized that Don was offering him a small dish of food. Donnie shook his head as he watched the dog dig in with gusto, ravenous after sleeping for two days. He scratched behind the ears again.  


“Well, you’re definitely a fighter, I’ll give you that.”  


Silence fell over the lab like a comfortable, well worn blanket. The kind that has been patched, and has strings hanging off of it, but you don’t care and love it all the more because it is so warm and well loved. Don’s machines beeped and hummed softly, and they could hear Mikey out in the lair laughing at the TV, but it didn’t detract from the silence. After the food was finished, water was offered and accepted in much the same manner. Afterwards when Donnie lifted the mutt off of the bed and placed him on the well newspapered area he had set aside for the animal’s bathroom use, the dog surprised Don by standing on his own, and taking the few steps necessary to return to the low cot and climb back in by himself afterwards.  


“Definitely a fighter.” The turtle laughed, sitting down on the cot by his patient and checking the stitches again, just to be sure. “We need to find a proper name for you. We can’t just keep calling you ‘dog’, ‘mutt’, or ‘pooch’... Don’t worry, I’ll think of something. No matter where you end up, it won’t be as a Fido or a Rover. I promise.” 

Splinter shook his head and moved away from the door. Names now. He hoped this storm wouldn’t keep them contained down here too long, his son was becoming attached to the animal, and it would make it all the harder when the time came to turn it over to the shelter. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The storm kept up for another week.  


In that time, the lair fell into a rhythm. Now that the worst of the danger was over, Donatello no longer had to check the dog every hour. Seeing to the dog’s needs was the first thing he did each day, then to his own needs second. He participated fully during practice, and afterwards he checked on the dog again. He never once had to clean the cot. Once he had been shown where he was to go, the dog took himself to his ‘potty corner’ as the turtles had dubbed it. Don never once had to carry him after that first day. After practice, and a shower, Don would feed the dog and join his family for lunch. Then he would retreat to the lab/infirmary to check on his patient again and work on his projects, the mutt a comforting presence against the wall.  


After three days of being awake, the dog began to move around a little more.  


At first Donnie was afraid that he would pull his stitches, but he seemed to understand that he couldn’t move quickly right now, and that he needed to take it slow. And so Don allowed him to explore, keeping an eye on him and gently shooing him away from areas he shouldn’t be or things he shouldn’t touch. For his first day on his feet, he was content to amble at a snail’s pace around the lab, nose questing and ears pricking. But the next day saw him standing at the lab door expectantly, looking back at Don as if to say ‘Well?’.  


So, Don let him out into the lair.  


Again, he watched him closely at first, guiding him away from areas and items he wasn’t to enter or touch. And just like in the lab, he soon found that the mutt was a quick learner. He stayed away from the pool in the center of the lair, and he avoided the dojo and Master Splinter’s rooms. He lay against the kitchen wall during breakfast. And when it came time for practice, he moved himself out into the main lair and settled gingerly against the back of the couch where he could see without being in the way. He returned to the lab with Don after lunch and settled back on his cot, and followed him back out again at dinner. He always returned to the lab and his ‘potty corner’ when he needed to, and he alway came right back afterwards. He seemed determined to keep Donatello in his sights at all times. No one was really surprised when the dog laid claim to the rug by Don’s bed six days after waking up.  


One week changed into two.  


Now the problem was no longer a storm, or a lack of humans at the shelter. Now it was the fact that there were too many humans on the streets around the warehouse they used as a garage. The storm had caused a lot of damage, and construction crews were working around the clock to get the city back in working order. Meanwhile, the sewers were still flooded. They were just as trapped as they’d been while the storm had raged on over their heads. And the dog. The dog continued to follow Donny everywhere.  


They were nearing the end of the second week shut in when things finally came to a head. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

April scrambled to answer her phone. “Hello?”  


“April? Hey, it’s Leo.”  


She smiled, settling back down onto her couch. It was good to hear from them again, cell phone connection had been pretty patchy during the storm, and the city of new york was still hard at work repairing the damage to several of the towers. Leo’s voice was clear and well defined, he must have been using the hardline Don had installed in the lair for occasions like this.  


Well, occasions like this and to make their technologically challenged rat master’s life a little easier. He had a shell cell just like the rest of them, but for whatever reason he just couldn’t seem to get the knack of using it. Don tried to make it as user friendly as possible, but Splinter still managed to accidentally hang up on them as often as not. Or unwittingly put it on silent. Now they usually called them landline if they wanted to get a hold of him. All he had to do was pick it up, and it was impossible to silence the loud obnoxious ring.  


“Hey Leo, long time no see!” Worry flitted across her mind, this was the first she’d heard from them since the storm. “Is everyone ok? The lair didn’t flood did it?”  


“No, no, nothing like that! We’re all fine. Don’s precautions kept the lair completely dry, we haven’t had a leak yet. And Raph made it back the first night just fine. We do need some help from you and Casey though.”  


Worry trailed cold fingers down her spine. Her family had shrunk down to almost nothing in her adult years, and for the most part the turtles and their father were the closest thing she had to family. As far as she was concerned, they were her family, and she would do anything to help her brothers out in any way she could. Her tone became all business. “Name it.”  


Leonardo almost sounded embarrassed. “Well, you see, the sewers are still flooded. We can’t open the sewer entrance without flooding the lair.”  


She frowned and started pulling on her boots. “What about the elevator? Is it not working? Casey and I can salvage any parts Don needs to get it up and running again. Just give me a list of what you need.”  


Leo’s voice was becoming more embarrassed by the second. “Um… that’s not the problem either…”  


She paused. It took a lot to make Leo self-conscious about anything. “Leo?”  


“...we um...we can’t use the elevator because of the construction workers.”  


“What?”  


The eldest turtle heaved a sigh and finally came clean. “They’re camped out all around our warehouse trying to fix something or other that broke in the storm. Whatever it is that broke must’ve been pretty important because they’re working around the clock. They’ve got us surrounded and the place is lit up like a christmas tree. We can’t get out without being spotted, even Master Splinter agrees.”  


April couldn’t help it. She started giggling.  


“It’s not funny April! We’ve been pinned down for almost a _week_ , and we were cooped up for another eight days before _that_ because of the storm! Raph is going stir crazy and if I hear one more ‘Mother Hubbard’ joke from Mikey about the cupboards being bare I’ll deck him myself!”  


“So what you’re saying is that you need Casey and me to make a supply run and somehow waltz past the construction workers as if we own the place.” April giggled.  


“Essentially.”  


She nodded, pinning her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she stood and reached for her coat and purse. “Alright. Hang tight and I’ll see what I can do. We’ll be over as soon as we can, and we’ll bring dinner with us. Sound good?”  


“That sounds awesome. We really appreciate this April.”  


He sounded so tired, and his gratitude so heartfelt, she wondered how bad the cabin fever had gotten down in the lair. “Not a problem. You know I’d do anything for you guys. A grocery run is the least I can do. I…”  


“Hold that thought April.”  


She waited. She could hear someone else in the background, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that one of the other turtles was making a request for the supply run. She smiled and quietly hummed to herself, starting to jot down a shopping list to feed for hungry turtles and a rat. She’d have to get Casey to bring his station wagon. The turtles could go through a fair amount of food in a short amount of time, there was no way they could lug that many groceries on foot past a bunch of construction workers and not be noticed, and even the thought of trying to get the two of them and said mountain of groceries onto Casey’s bike was beyond ludicrous.  


“ _Ok_ Don, I got it! I’ll make _sure_ she picks some up.”  


April pricked up her ears. She’d been expecting it to be Mikey, requesting a new issue from his favorite comic book, or maybe a movie rental. What could Don possible want? A smile curled her lips. He probably needed a part. And he’d been told in no uncertain terms by Master Splinter that under no circumstances was he to cannibalize the toaster oven again.  


“What parts does he need Leo?” She asked.  


“What? Oh! No, he doesn’t need any parts, he was just hoping you could pick him up a good size bag of dog food while you were getting the groceries. He said a large bag would be preferable.”  


April blinked. That definitely wasn’t what she’d been expecting. “Um, ok. How much dog food are we talking here?”  


“Probably about as large a bag as you can get your hands on.” Leo answered dryly.  


“Ok….” She started scribbling on her shopping list again. “Um...did he have a specific brand or age group in mind? They change the ingredients depending on the age group you know.”  


“He didn’t specify a brand. But adult dog food should be fine.”  


“...should I ask why he wants a large amount of adult dog food?”  


On the other end, Leonardo heaved a tired sigh. “It’s a long story.”  


“So don’t ask. Got it.” She grabbed up her shopping list and tucked it into her purse. “Alright, I’m heading out. I’ll be there with Casey as soon as I can. Tell the natives that if they can keep their restlessness under control until I get there I’ll bring a surprise.”  


“April?”  


She paused. “Yes?”  


“You’re the best.”  


“I know.” She giggled and bid him goodbye. As soon as he’d hung up, she hit her sixth speed dial and put her phone back to her ear. It picked up on the third ring.  


“Hey babe, what’s up?”  


“Grab your keys Casey. Seems the Hamatos need a grocery run before Mikey drives them all insane with his Mother Hubbard jokes.” 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

April huffed out a breath as the elevator doors slid open to the lair.  


It had been surprisingly easy to bluff their way past the construction workers. They had pulled up in Casey’s station wagon and she had told the foreman that she was a grad student at one of the local universities. She had rented the warehouse for an engineering project, and she needed to get in to make sure that it hadn’t been damaged by the storm. She had to get back to work on it soon, as it was more than _half_ of her final grade! The foreman had been suspicious at first, but a glance in the back of Casey’s station wagon at all the parts stacked in boxes on his back seat and the fact that she had the key to the warehouse had been enough to convince him that she was telling the truth. He let them through and promised that he would alert the day shifts that they were to let her through as well.  


No one had given them a second glance.  


She made sure all the windows inside the warehouse were covered, and locked the door from the inside to make sure no one could see the elevator leading down to the lair, then she and Casey proceeded to unload the groceries and faerie them all over into the elevator. That way they wouldn’t have to make several trips up and down, they just had to get the guys to help them get all the boxes out at the bottom. It had been a stroke of genius on Casey’s part to put all the bits and pieces of machinery on top of the groceries to hide them. It had added just the right touch of believability to her story.  


“Guys?” She called as they stepped out, arms laden with boxes.  


“Yo fellas! Where ya at?” Casey yelled beside her.  


A sudden snarl made them whirl, dropping their boxes. A large black, white, and tan gold dog was slowly stalking toward them, teeth bared and hackles raised. April immediately backed up several steps. The dog snarled and snapped, every line declaring that they had exactly three seconds to vacate his territory, and that he wasn’t taking no for an answer.  


One way or another, they were _leaving_.  


Casey scooped up a tie rod from one of the fallen boxes, brandishing it like a baseball bat. “Alright ya ugly mutt! I don’t know what you’re doing here, but we was invited, an’ we ain’t leaving till we seen our bros an’ given’ ‘em their grub! So ya can back off right now an’... Aghhhh!!!”  


The dog attacked hard and fast, darting in under Casey’s defense and bowling him over as if he were nothing. Strong sharp teeth fastened on the jacket covered arm holding the rod and dug in, trying to shake loose his grip on his weapon. Casey yelled and swore, raining blows with his free hand down on the dog's head, trying to dislodge him. The dog only growled louder and doubled his efforts.  


“TUNGSTEN! Stand down! NOW!”  


The dog immediately released Casey’s arm and backed away, hackles still raised and ears pinned back, but no longer snarling.  


Donnie was at their side in seconds, squatting down by Casey and yanking back his sleeve. Casey’s arm was red, and would no doubt have some fairly impressive bruising on it tomorrow. The tall, dark haired man was shaken, but bruises seemed to be as far as his injuries went. The purple clad turtle heaved a sigh of relief and sat back, thumping down on the floor beside his friend, the rest of the turtles gathered round behind him.  


“ _Shell_ , I thought he’d really hurt you.” He breathed, running a hand over his face. He reached out for the dog. The mutt wagged his plumed tail, and immediately came to him. He whined happily, thrusting his head insistently under Donnie’s hand with all the enthusiasm of a young puppy. Donnie laughed, rubbing the dog's ears and scratching along his shoulders.  


April settled against one of the massive pillars, folding her arms. “Well, I guess now we know why Donnie wanted a giant bag of dog food. Though it would've been nice to know you had a guard dog Leo.”  


The eldest turtle blushed and ducked his head under the withering hairy eyeball she was sending his way. “Sorry April.” He offered contritely. He gestured at the dog. 

“We never dreamed he'd go after you like that! Up till now Donnie’s shadow has been as quiet and gentle as a rabbit. We didn't… wait, Don, what did you call him?”  


The resident genius looked up in surprise. “Tungsten.”  


“Don, at what point did you _name_ the dog?”  


“What? I've been calling him Tungsten since that first week. Why? Is there a problem?”  


Mikey clutched his head dramatically and began to wildly gesticulate in the air. “Donnie, you're not _supposed_ to name it. Once you _name_ it, you start getting _attached_ to it! Now put that thing back where it came from, OR SO HELP ME!” He trailed off, grinning from ear to ear at his incredulous family. “...I always wanted to do that. But seriously Donnie, don't put it back, he's actually gotten you out of your lab more often than usual.”  


Donatello rolled his eyes. “Gee Mike, thanks. Sorry he jumped you Casey. Are you alright?”  


The large man grinned and offered his hand to Tungsten. The mutt wagged his tail. He wasn't as enthusiastic as he'd been with Donnie, but now that he'd been assured these new humans were ok he was more than happy to make some new friends. And the big human knew a thing or two about dogs! He knew exactly which itchy spots to go after. Casey laughed as Tungsten leaned into his scratching fingers. “Nah, he ain't so bad. He was just protectin’ ‘is home is all. Don't worry Donnie, he didn't hurt me none. An’...Hey! What's with all the embroidery on ‘is belly?”  


So, the tale was unfolded while they unloaded the groceries. How Raph had found Tungsten in the alley with his belly torn open, and had carried him home. About the scare that they'd given the other turtles. About Donnie’s midnight surgery, and the days that had followed. And about the way Tungsten had become Donnie’s shadow, following him from room to room, and always keeping him in sight.  


“Well, as dogs go it sounds like ya go a good one Donnie.” Casey told his friend, clapping him on the shell.  


Don beamed. “I know I did. Tungsten is …”  


Mikey’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “DUDES, SHE BROUGHT PIZZA!!!”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Master Splinter smiled as he watched his small family from the kitchen door as they and their friends inhaled their pizza. Well, three of his sons anyway. He flicked an ear back, smiling as Leonardo came up behind him.  


“My son?”  


“You’re going to let Donnie keep him aren't you?” He nodded towards the dog laying quietly at his younger brother’s feet. The two smiled when they saw Don slip a hand under the table and give Tungsten a small piece of pizza.  


“Yes.”  


His son glanced curiously at him. “Why? I mean, I'm glad, I don't think either of them would stand for it if we tried to separate them. But I thought I'd have to work hard to convince you to let Donnie’s shadow stay. What changed you're mind?”  


“I have known since the first day he stepped from the lab on his own.” The elderly rat motioned to the newest member of the family. “Look at him my son. See the way he watches Donatello. I know that look all too well. There is no force on earth that could separate them now.” He shook his head at his son's questioning glance and cast a sad wistful smile.  


“I know that look, because I used to gaze at my Master Yoshi in the same way. No my son. I lost my master. I will not take his master from him.”  


In the kitchen, Donatello glanced up from slipping Tungsten another piece of pizza and met the eyes of his father and elder brother. He froze, caught in the act. Splinter smiled, and gave the smallest of nods. For a moment, Don gazed back, confused. Then Splinter and Leonardo’s smiles clicked and he stared from them to Tungsten and back in astonishment. They smiled wider still, and nodded again. Don felt certain that his face would split in half, cheeks aching with how wide he was smiling. But he only nodded his thanks, and slipped his dog another bite of Pizza under the table. 

For his part, Tungsten didn't understand everything that was going on around him, but he understood that his young master was happy. And so he wagged his tail as hard as he could and licked the cheese and grease off Donatello’s fingers.


	2. Many Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were worried. So they'd kept Klunk and Tungsten apart until Tungsten was well on the road to recovery. Now only one question remains. 
> 
> Will the cat and dog get along?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Round two! DING! Originally, my intention was to focus on how each turtle became a proud pet owner. But this scene was just begging to be written, and unfortunately it wouldn't let me move on to write the next turtle's pet acquisition until I wrote it. So here you go!
> 
> Lol, thanks for the support guys. The last chapter was my first foray into the turtle world, and I appreciate the support (and the pointers on how to navigate Ao3!)! 
> 
> ENJOY!

He’d been in the lair for four weeks.

Four _weeks_. Four weeks since Raphael had brought Tungsten home, and the stray had all but _adopted_ his younger brother Donnie. Tungsten had definitely made himself at home in the lair.

Signs of his presence could be seen all throughout turtles’ home. A pair of bowls were on permanent display by the wall in an out of the way corner of the kitchen. A large plastic tub full of kibble had taken up residence in the hollow between the kitchen cabinets and the wall. And a thin flannel blanket now constantly covered the cot in Donatello’s lab to keep it clean of dog hair in case he needed the bed for an injured brother.

Tungsten had been on his feet within days of arriving at the lair. And he had stuck to Donatello’s side as if he’d been superglued there ever since.

In the kitchen, Leo smiled and sipped his tea.

Having a dog was good for his little brother. After four weeks, Leo could _definitely_ see the improvement. Don was out of his lab far more often than usual, almost on a regular schedule now. Donnie was eating regularly, and with the family! In the past Don ate sporadically, usually when his brothers insisted and more often than not in his lab. Now he would come out of the lab to feed Tungsten in the kitchen, and waiting for his dog to finish usually reminded him that he was hungry too.

Leo could see Donatello and Tungsten out in the main lair from his spot in the kitchen. In the past several days Tungsten had become more energetic. He was trotting along at Donnie’s side, his plumed tail wagging like mad and his dark eyes focused adoringly on his master’s face. Don just laughed and kept moving, one hand dropping down to play with his mutt’s ears. He’d told them that Tungsten’s energy levels would be coming back and that he would probably start being more active. His wounds were well on their way to becoming just another scar on a body that had far too many.

Don paused, spotting Leo in the kitchen. His eyes darted to the clock. “Leo? What are you doing up so late?”

The older turtle shrugged. “Meditation ran long. I didn’t realize how late it was until I came down for tea. How about you? What are you doing up?”

“Well, I was working on the security systems. Probably still be at it, but Tungsten’s tired and wouldn’t take no for an answer anymore.” He threaded his fingers through the dog’s thick ruff. “Kept yawning, and when I didn’t take the hint he got a bit more insistent. So. We’re heading to bed.”

Well, miracles never ceased.

Donatello often fell asleep in the lab, flopped over his desk, and usually balanced precariously on the edge of his wheeled office swivel chair. The one that seemed to be more duct tape than anything else. Since they’d gotten Tungsten, Don was usually in bed somewhere between one and two thirty a.m. Never any later than three. The dog had laid claim to the rug by Donnie’s bed, and he slept there every night. Provided Don was in the bed. Since he had laid claim to the rug, Tungsten had yet to spend a night anywhere else. He would nose, paw, whine, and once even nip his young master until Donatello took the hint and went to bed.

Leo hid his smirk in his coffee mug.

Three weeks without Don falling asleep in his lab once. It was more than Leonardo, Raphael, and Michelangelo had ever managed to do. They usually had to push, pull, threaten, and pester until he agreed to turn in, and then it was a fifty-fifty shot whether it would actually _happen_.

Leo stood and followed his brother upstairs. Tungsten was definitely having a good influence on Don.

Now they just had to introduce him to Klunk.

* * *

Michelangelo tossed a piece of popcorn up and caught it in his mouth.

At his side, his dark orange tabby was giving himself a bath on the couch. The turtle smirked and popped another buttery piece of popcorn. It seemed like forever ago that he had found Klunk on Christmas eve while foiling a purple dragon heist. The orange tabby kitten had been so tiny. A little animal so small that he could fit him in the palm of his callused green hand. Since then Klunk had grown into a big tomcat, and Mikey absolutely _adored_ him.

He wondered how Klunk would react when he finally came face to face with Tungsten.

It had been interesting, trying to keep them apart. Given that they had both been strays, there was a very good chance that they wouldn’t get along. So, they had kept them apart for the time being. Klunk had been allowed to have the run of the lair for the first couple of days while Tungsten was unconscious and later bedridden. Now, Klunk came out while Tungsten was in the lab, up in Donnie’s bedroom, the the garage on the surface, or out in the sewer tunnels on a run. The rest of the time Klunk was in Mikey’s bedroom, giving run of the lair to the dog.

Klunk had been ok with the confinement at first, but Mikey could tell that Klunk was getting a little restless.

He scratched Klunk’s neck while he channel surfed. Currently Tungsten was out on a walk through the tunnels with Donnie. Had been for the past couple of hours. Mikey huffed. He didn’t like keeping Klunk cooped up all the time, but hopefully that would change soon. Donnie said that Tungsten’s wounds were healing well. Even if he decided to chase Klunk around the lair, there wasn’t much chance that he’d seriously hurt himself. So, hopefully soon they’d be able to introduce them. And hopefully the animals would be willing to coexist.

The sewer entrance grated open.

Mikey sighed and pulled Klunk into his lap. Probably not the best choice but it made him feel better. He stubbornly kept cuddling his cat. Donnie shuffled across the lair to the living area, Tungsten bouncing at his side.

Mikey smirked. “You have a good run dude?”

Don sighed. “How is it I can run all over New York city rooftops all night long with the best of them, but this dog can run the shell right off of me? I don’t get it. I… Tungsten NO!”

He was too late.

Tungsten had darted past his master’s legs and hopped directly up onto the couch to crawl into Mikey’s lap and greet him enthusiastically… except there was already a cat in Michelangelo’s lap.

The two turtles held their breath. Here came the moment of truth.

Klunk let off an irritable warning hiss as the dog tried to shove into the space that was his and his alone.

Tungsten cocked his head curiously, pricking his ears. He’d been able to smell the cat in the lair from the minute he’d woken up, but this was the first time he’d seen it. He crouched low, getting more on the cat’s eye level, and sniffed curiously at him. He’d met plenty of cat’s during his time on the streets, he knew how much cat claws to the nose could hurt. He was wary of letting his sensitive nose get too close.

Klunk flattened his ears, hackles standing up. He stared up at the dog as if he’d personally offended him. Wary and ready for anything, he lashed his tail furiously back and forth and raised his hackles even higher in warning. He’d met plenty of dogs when he’d been a tiny kitten without a home. Big or small, they’d all been larger than him. Some had been nice, but most hadn’t. In fact the majority of them had tried to eat him. He eyed the dog suspiciously. The dog was getting down to his eye level, and was maintaining a polite distance.

Maybe…?

Tungsten’s tail slowly began to wag. The cat hadn’t scratched him yet.

Klunk gave one last little warning growl and turned his back, curling up in Michelangelo’s lap and tucking his face into the crook of his arm. Mikey would never let the dog hurt him. He knew that. And while Donny often shooed Klunk out of the room with all the warm machines, the cat knew that there was affection there too. The turtles wouldn’t bring in something that would hurt him.

Tungsten huffed and sat back up as the cat in Mikey’s lap dismissed him. He licked Mikey’s cheek in greeting and returned to nuzzle his master. The two turtles stared at the animals. Then Mikey started to smile.

“So….does this mean Klunk isn’t on house arrest anymore?”

Don snorted and scratched his dog behind the ears. “Mikey, he’s a housecat. He’s always on house arrest.” His brother grinned unrepentantly and gave him an expectant look. Don sighed. _“Yes_ Mikey, Klunk is off his house arrest.”

He couldn’t help but smile at his baby brother’s victory whoop.

* * *

“Guys! Dudes you gotta see this!”

While the exclamation itself wasn’t unusual, the whispered quality of it definitely was. Seriously, it was _Mikey_! Michelangelo didn’t _do_ quiet, it just wasn’t in his nature! So, when he did something that out of character, you could bet he had his brother’s full and undivided attention.

“Mikey? What’s wrong?” Leo set down his book and stood.

The other two followed.

Michelangelo was standing at the kitchen door, stealthily peeking around the frame. His shoulders were shaking with silent laughter and he had his shell cell out and….wait. Was he filming? Yeah, he definitely had their attention now, anything Mikey found film worthy was something the others immediately sat up and took notice of. Usually because it was hysterical and or blackmail material.

Sometimes both.

All three turtles gathered behind him with a silence only years of training could instill, and peered over his shoulder into the kitchen. And suddenly they understood why he was having such a hard time muffling his giggles.

Klunk and Tungsten were in the kitchen.

It had been three weeks since the two of them had officially met each other on the couch in the living room, and since then they had both been given free run of the lair. The two had kept out of each other's way at first, but as the days rolled by they seemed to accept that they were both here to stay and had developed a sort of truce. Klunk seemed to spend a lot more time on Mikey’s lap, shoulders, or in his arms, constantly rubbing up against his master any time he got the chance.

Making sure the dog understood that _this_ turtle was _his_.

Apparently somewhere along the line the two had become friends while the turtles’ backs were turned.

Klunk was perched on top of the counter right next to the stove. Below him sat Tungsten, the mutt watching the tabby cat attentively. And as the turtles watched in growing surprise and amusement, Klunk sat up on his haunches, hooked a couple spaghetti noodles out of the pot on the stove with his claws, and flicked them over the side of the counter to the patiently waiting canine below. Who eagerly caught them in his mouth by the way, sucking them down and licking off the sauce while his feline partner in crime cleaned the spatters of sauce off the counter top.

Leo folded his arms with a soft laugh. “Well, I guess they’ve finally settled their differences.”

“I guess so.” Donny agreed.

Mikey smirked and ended the video. “See? I told you it’d be alright.” He stepped into the kitchen to shoo the two delinquents away from the stove, then trotted back out waving his phone in the air.

“Go ahead and dish up guys, I gotta go show this to Master Splinter!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes? No? Maybe so? Let me know! 
> 
> Now that this tidbit is done, I can get back to writing the intro of our next turtle pet! 
> 
> P.S. I tried a different line break, which do you guys think is better? Thanks!
> 
> Until next time. :)


	3. Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the SUPER-long wait guys, my muse up and deserted me halfway through the chapter. I got her back now, so hopefully the next will be up soon. In the meantime, have an extra long chapter to make up for the extra long wait! 
> 
> ENJOY!

* * *

 

“Raph! Get a move on already!”

The red clad turtle chuckled and rolled his eyes. He was up to his elbows in a broken down old bus that would never run again, trying to liberate a part from the stubborn old engine. He was covered in oil, grease, and god knew what else from scrambling around the junkyard all night, and his muscles had the slight but pleasant burn that only came with hard work. 

“Raph, ya gonna finish sometime tonight?”

The turtle pulled his head out of the decrepit old bus and smiled warmly at his brother and his best friend. God, he loved scavenging nights in the junkyards with Casey and Don! They were just as dirty and grimey as he was, though the macho part of him liked to think that he’d put in the most elbow grease. Don had a dark streak of grime across his cheek, and Casey’s face was just completely smudged. They both had heavy canvas duffle bags over their shoulders, and sported head lamps and loaded tool belts around their hips. Both were grinning up at him. 

He grinned right back and leaned against the bus. “Hey, you think it’s easy gettin’ parts out a this hunk a junk? Thing’s been sitting here since Lincoln was in office.”

Donnie scrambled up the junk pile to peer into the bus, turning on his headlamp. “What part are you so shell bent on… Oh! Good, we needed one of those for the battle shell. Good spotting Raph, I completely forgot about it! You sure the part’s good though?” 

“Yeah, if I can get it out. It’s being stubborn.” 

“Aww, what’s a matter Raphie? Is a little spark plug gettin’ the better of ya?” Casey laughed, climbing up beside the two turtles to peer in at the engine Raph had spent the better part of ten minutes arguing with. 

“Spark plug my shell.” Raph grumbled, pointing out the part they wanted. He stood back, letting his friend and brother take a crack at it. 

It was a beautiful night out. The moon hung bright and full in the sky overhead, and a few diamond bright stars had even fought their way through the light pollution to wink down at them. A cool breeze had popped up earlier in the evening, and it wrapped around him now, playing with his crimson bandana tails. 

The junkyard was quiet and dark. 

No one ever policed this junkyard, and Don had needed all of half a minute to deal with the few safety lights. Tall fences kept out unwanted eyes, and the homeless who lived here were friends. They often kept an eye out for pieces the turtles could use, and the turtles thanked them with warm clothes, blankets, and anything else they had to spare that would make their friends’ lives easier. Unless the Purple Dragons decided to raid the junkyard tonight too, there was almost no chance of someone spotting them. 

It was an easy scavenge, and Raphael and his brothers loved this place. 

A loud clunk sounded, and was quickly followed by a long string of swearing from inside the bus. Raphael laughed, out and out laughed, and ducked back under the hood with the other two. 

“Alright ya knucklehead, what’d ya do now?”

* * *

 

 

It took them almost an hour of sweat and growling to finally wrestle the part out of the bus. Raph tucked it into the duffle he’d left sitting on the ground, and the three of them kept moving. They filled up the first set of duffels, then returned to the battle shell for empty ones and started all over again.

Another two hours worth of salvage left their duffels bulging, and their bodies covered in more grease and grime than they would’ve thought possible. But they were more than proud of themselves when they pulled the armored truck back into the garage. 

Casey toed one of the duffels. “Yo fellas, what’s with the bag a blankets? Thought you guys was wantin’ parts.” 

“We do.” Donnie answered patiently. “But you saw our friends at the junkyard. We collect blankets and clothes for them. You’d be surprised what gets left in the trunks and back seats of junkers. If they’re serviceable, but need a little work, we bring them back to the lair for cleaning and repair. We’ll get them into the best shape we can, then give them to our friends the next time we hit the yard.”

“Cool.” Casey grabbed up the straps for that duffel and two others and hopped out of the truck. “You want these here in the garage or you want it all down in the lair?” 

“In the lair is fine Case, not all a the parts are for the transportation.” Raph grabbed two more of the bags and stepped into the elevator. Casey and Don were  quick to follow him. “Most a this stuff is for Don’s gizmos down in the lab. We’ll let him sort out what he needs, then bring the rest back up here. And the clothes and blankets go straight to the wash before we even think about tryin’ to mend them holes.” 

“Sounds good man.” Casey grinned. “Any chance I can swipe a coffee for the ride home while I’m down here?” 

“Nah, help yourself.” 

The three exited the elevator together, and none of them were surprised to find Leonardo still awake and waiting for them. He smiled when he saw their beaming faces and moved in to take a bag from Casey and Don, as both of them were carrying more than two, and fell into step beside them. 

“I see the tech scavenge went well. You guys find everything you need?”

Donatello bumped the door to his lab open with his hip and set the two bags of parts on the floor by his desk. “I’ll say. Raph even managed to find the part we’d been needing for the battle shell. So no more making due, we can swap it out...Oh, and Raph found some stuff for our friends at the yard. Not sure what condition they’re in yet.”

“That’s awesome Don. But don’t stay up all night sorting this stuff and putting it away. That can wait till tomorrow.” Leo glanced at his red clad brother, a silent request for more information. “Raphael?” 

The hothead grabbed the bag of clothes and blankets from Casey and tossed it roughly over his shoulder. He frowned. The bag was a bit heavier than he expected. Granted, he  _ had _ really packed the stuff in to make sure it would fit, but he knew he hadn’t completely filled it. He shrugged and turned his attention back to the older turtle. Maybe Don had tucked some stuff in there too. 

He led the others back into the lair.

“Most of it’s good, but Mikey’ll still have ta break out the sowin’ basket. Just a couple patch jobs. The Professor says hi by the way, and thanks fer’ the blankets. He an’ the rest a the homeless will keep an eye out for us, same as always.” He glanced around curiously. “Where’s Masta’ Splinta and the chucklehead? They turn in already?” 

“No, they’re in the kitchen. We figured you three would be hungry when you got home. Casey, you’re welcome to stay as well.”

Casey whooped and did a fist pump as he trotted into the kitchen. “Yes! Yo Mikey, what’d ya make tonight for us returnin’ foragers?!” 

Donatello arched an eyebrow. “...returning foragers?”

“Meh, I learned ta just roll with it.” Raph shrugged and lightly socked his brother in the shoulder. “You two go on ahead. I’m gonna go drop these in the washin’ machine and get ‘em going first, then I’ll be right in.” 

The lair was quiet tonight, as he made his way to the washing room. Water moved softly through the pipes over his head and embedded in the walls around him. Off in the distance he could hear the subway, the thunderous rumble softened by distance and stone. Even from the laundry room he could hear the rise and fall of his family’s voices all the way out in the kitchen. 

The laundry room was warm, it was always warm. Comfortable. As much as they all moaned and grumbled about chores, they honestly didn’t mind doing them, especially when said chore was laundry. The lair was large, the monolithic stones leaching off any heat, and the turtles were cold blooded. There weren’t enough space heaters in the  _ world  _ to warm up the entire lair to a comfortable level. Getting an excuse to spend some time in the little laundry room with the warm air from the dryer was the turtles’ favorite thing about chores. 

The red clad turtle set the duffle to one side and peered into the wash. 

Whoever had drawn the laundry chore last hadn’t come back to switch. He shrugged and popped the washer and dryer, transferring the blankets and sheets. He made a face at the faded pink stains on one of the sheets and grabbed a bottle out of a cabinet to pre-treat it and throw it back into the wash. Maybe a second round in the washing machine would take out the last remnants of Mikey’s latest prank. He tossed the final few pieces into the dryer and made a grab for the duffel bag. Again, the weight seemed odd but he paid it no mind....That is, until he pulled out the first blanket. 

A growl erupted from the bag!

“WHAT the SHELL?!” The turtle dropped the grimy blanket and backpedalled, landing on his shell with a loud smack, back pressed against the open washer. He could vaguely hear his family coming, wanting to know what had happened? Was he alright? He didn’t answer, unable to stop staring at the bag.

Sticking up out of the open duffel was a head!

A pointed black furred head was directed his way, balanced on a long graceful neck and slender shoulders. Large dark eyes set in a somewhat dished face watched him with a mixture of wariness and curiosity. The animal cocked its head, pricking up a pair of tufted ears. Dark chocolate brown eyes locked with fiery amber gold. For one long second, those eyes held. Then three turtles and a massive human came barreling through the laundry room door and that ebony head dove back down into the bag. 

“Raphael, are you ok?” 

“What happened?” 

“Bro, you alright?” 

“You good dude?”

Raphael nodded. He slowly sat up and cautiously pulled the bag open a little further. Nestled down inside the grimy clothes and blankets was their odd stowaway. It had swaddled itself in them, only its head showing. The feathery tufted ears were pinned back, hackles along the back of its neck rising when the turtle’s hand got a little too close. The little beast pulled his lips back from ivory teeth, a warning growl escaping his throat. 

“Is that a dog?” Mikey asked curiously.

Raph shrugged helplessly. “I think so, but it ain’t like any dog I eva’ seen. Maybe it’s a puppy or somethin’?” He peered into the duffle, minding his fingers when the dog growled again. “...How the shell did he get in there?”

“Given how he’s growling at your fingers, I think a more pertinent question to be asking right now would be how on earth are you going to get him out of there?” Donnie leaned even farther through the door. “And that is definitely a dog. I don’t know what specific breed that is, but it’s definitely canine.” 

“ ‘ere, give this a try Raph.” Casey squatted down within easy reach of the red clad turtle and handed him a sandwich baggie from his pocket. “Go on an’ offer ‘im some a that. I ain’t met the dog yet that’d turn down Ma’s homemade beef jerky. Just offer ‘im a piece, an’ let ‘im sniff your hand. He’ll let ya coax ‘im out a the bag eventually. Just be patient with ‘im. If I’d been swung around in a duffel bag like that I’d be kind a cranky too!” 

Thinking of the way he’d tossed the bag around throughout the evening, the turtle couldn’t help but wince. 

Raphael looked up at the others. When they nodded, he took the bag and pulled out a strip of jerky. Breaking off a small piece, he offered it to the dog in the duffel bag. A wet pointed nose twitched, and the head cautiously rose up out of the bag. A smile crept unbidden over the turtle’s face. He offered his hand a little bit closer. That long nose twitched again, reminding him of Splinter when he was about to catch one of them in the middle of a prank. 

Usually Mikey. 

“Come on falla, I gotta wash those. Ya can’t stay in there forever.” He coaxed. 

The tufted black ears perked up at the sound of his voice. He stretched out his neck towards the turtle’s hand, nose questing after the scent of the jerky and the odd scent of the terrapin who held it. He licked his lips, and finally began to crawl out of the bag. Long slender legs ended in small paws rested firmly on the concrete. A deep chest, narrow shoulders, and a strongly tucked waist all contributed to a streamlined appearance. Long dirty fur covered the animal’s entire body, and a long feathered tail was tucked in between his legs. He was bigger than they would have expected. Raph could see his brothers’ eyes getting wider and wider as they watched the dog unfold himself from the bag.

Mikey’s jaw was almost on the floor. “What is he, a transformer?” 

Leo chuckled. “I agree. What is that Raphael, a duffel bag or a clown car?” 

“Whateva’.” 

Raph kept his eyes on the dog. That nose was still questing after the jerky in his hand. Seeing as how it had been so accommodating as to get out of the bag on the first try, it was only fair that he gave it the jerky. Right? 

“Here ya go fella.” he mumbled. “Thanks for gettin’ out a the bag.”

The dog snatched the jerky from his open hand and immediately retreated a few steps. When no one made a move to follow or try to take it, the dog made quick work of his prize. The jerky was gone in the blink of an eye. The dog raised it’s head, pricking those tufted ears again as it took in the strange beings surrounding it. Then those brown eyes focused on Raph again. 

The turtle chuckled when the animal licked it’s chops. 

He’d apparently established himself as a food source...awesome. Keeping the large piece he’d pulled from the bag, Raph passed the rest back to Casey. He could feel the weight of the dog’s gaze as he broke off another little bit, and offered it to their surprise guest. 

Again the dog crept forward, snatched the offered tidbit, and retreated to scarf it down. And again. It didn’t retreat as far the third time, and the fourth it didn’t retreat at all. 

Raph took a deep breath and offered a fifth piece. As the dog scarfed at the slightly larger bit of jerky, the turtle cautiously laid a hand on the animal’s shoulder. The dog went tense as a coiled spring, but it didn’t move. Raph offered it another piece of jerky with his free hand. After a long moment’s hesitation, their furry guest accepted it. He slowly began to pet the animal. Again, he felt it tense, and again he rewarded it for holding still and not biting him.

“Raph…” Donnie breathed. “Look at his tail.” 

Amber eyes darted down the animal’s streamlined body. The plumed tail that had been tucked between the mutt’s legs the whole time had finally made an appearance. And it was wagging slowly to and fro at a snail’s pace. 

Leo smiled and leaned against the door frame. “I think you did it Raph.” 

Raph’s face lit up. “Good boy.” he murmured to the dog, prompting pricked ears and a slightly more vigorous tail wagging this time. “Good boy.”  

Raphael studied the stray. It was definitely bigger than he’d thought when he’d first seen it in the bag, and definitely not a pup. Young, sure, but  _ not  _ a pup. Height wise, the dog could almost match Tungsten. Raph estimated that there wasn’t more than a couple inches difference between the pair. But when it came to sheer bulk, sheer  _ muscle _ , his brother’s dog had this delicate looking thing outclassed. It couldn’t have weighed more than thirty pounds or so. His long jet black fur was dirty and lank and matted. He stank, and he would need a bath or two. 

The dog cautiously sniffed at Raphael’s face.

Now that the initial wariness seemed to have faded a little, the homeless mutt scooted closer to the hothead. Then, without any warning it seemed to come to a decision and climbed into the startled terrapin’s lap without so much as a ‘by your leave’ and made himself at home there. He folded himself up into an impossibly small ball and draped his head over Raph’s forearm so that he could watch the others. 

“That thing is totally a transformer dude, no way could he curl up that tiny unless he was!” Mikey asserted. 

Raph rolled his eyes. 

Seeing as his arms were full, Donatello took it on himself to give Mikey’s bandana tails a tug for him. 

Raphael smirked. “Thanks Donnie.”

“No problem bro.” He gestured at the dog in Raph’s lap. “Now, what do you say we get your new friend some food? He’s got to be hungry, and…” 

“What has happened my sons? Is Raphael alright?” 

The turtles and Casey quickly scrambled out of the way to let Splinter through. The elderly rat stopped, his eyebrows rising at the sight of his second eldest sitting on the cold floor with a shaggy looking dog in his lap. He laid his ears back, tail swishing from side to side. It was a warning pose his sons had learned to heed well over the years. 

“Raphael, you are developing a bad habit of bringing home strays.”

The turtle ducked his head. “Master Splinter. I didn’t mean ta bring him home. I never even saw ‘im out in the junk yard. He must a climbed into the bag when I wasn’t lookin’. I swear, I didn’t do this on purpose.” 

“Hmm…” The elderly rat stroked his chin, carefully considering his contrite son and their unexpected houseguest. At last he came to a decision. “Very well my son. I believe you. It is too late tonight to take the animal to a shelter. It may remain here tonight. But tomorrow I expect you to take it to a shelter while you and your brothers are out on patrol. Until then, it is your responsibility, and yours alone. Am I understood?” 

“Hai, Sensei.” Raph inclined his head respectfully. 

“Donatello. Michelangelo. Please put your pets away for now. Leonardo. If you and Mr. Jones would be kind enough to help your brother bathe our guest, I am sure he would much appreciate it. The animal stinks. I will not have him running about the lair until he has been bathed.” 

“Of course Sensei.” Leo agreed. 

The rat nodded and left the room, calling over his shoulder. “Be sure that you bathe it thoroughly. I will see to it that supper is still warm when you are finished.”

“Thanks Master Splinter!” Casey called after the rat’s retreating back. To Mikey he added, “I mean, don’t get me wrong Mikey, I’m sure your tomato soup tastes good cold an’ all. But I prefer it hot ya know? Hot an’ with a side a grilled cheese!” 

Mikey snickered. “Nice save dude.”

Leo shooed his two youngest brothers out. “Alright, that’s enough. Let’s get a move on. Don, you and Mikey go and get Klunk and Tungsten under wraps ok? Then go ahead and eat with Master Splinter. It shouldn’t take us long to get this little guy cleaned up.” 

The younger two nodded and left, Don whistling for Tungsten and Mikey calling for Klunk. 

Casey snorted. “Clearly ya never washed a dog Leo. Ya better hope this one likes gettin’ wet, or this is gonna go about as well as trying ta get Raph ta wear pink ballerina gear.” 

Raphael snorted and Leo winced at the idea of trying to get his hothead brother into a tutu. “Yeah, no. Let’s just hope Raphael’s dog likes baths. Raph, you think he’ll let you pick him up and carry him? I don’t want him getting scared and trying to take a piece out of your shell. You’d break his teeth.” 

“Very funny fearless.” Raph rolled his eyes and cautiously slipped his arms more fully underneath the dog. He needn’t have worried, the jet black stray just curled further into his strong arms. He smiled and scratched his fingers through the long grimy fur. 

“Come on Raph, let’s get your pooch washed up. I’ll run ahead an get the bath started for ya.” 

“He ain’t my pooch!” Raph shook his head at his cackling friend as the human raced ahead to the bathroom. “Knucklehead.” he grumbled. 

Leo laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. He knew he didn’t mean it.

* * *

 

 

Raph knew going in that it was going to take time to get the mutt clean. As grimy as it was, he was fully prepared to have to wash it twice. And the matts? Forget about it. They were spending at least an hour and a half in there, minimum. 

_ Four hours later... _

“Woah! How on earth did you get all of those matts out of his fur? I thought for sure you’d have to cut it!” 

Don set his tea down on the table and stared, taking stock of the tightly curled ball of dog in Raph’s arms. Across the table, Mikey  held up a large McDonald's cup full of kibble. 

“Ah, Mike, ya didn't need ta stay up and wait for us. You’re gonna be dragging some massive shell tomorrow at practice.”

Mikey shrugged. “Master Splinter cancelled. Between the tech scavenge and our unexpected guest he said he'd give us tomorrow,  but he expects us to bust our shells the day after. Just a heads up.”

The hot head nodded and set the, now thoroughly cleaned and dried, coal black stray down on his feet and took the cup. “Thanks Mikey. An’ Donnie ya gotta ask Leo an’ Case. They were the ones what figured out how to get ‘em out without cutting his fur… Come here pooch, here’s the dinner I promised ya.” 

The mutt could apparently smell what was in the cup. 

He yipped, dancing around the turtle’s legs excitedly. He even sat back on his haunches to make himself a little taller, his plumed tail wagging a mile a minute.  Raph sidestepped the dog, having to employ more of his ninja skills than he would’ve expected to keep from tripping over the mutt or spilling the kibble. The dog bounced along at his side to a ceramic bowl set up by Tungsten’s water dish. Tungsten’s food dish had been set up out of the newcomer’s reach. The last thing anyone wanted tonight was a turf war between the two dogs. Raph dumped in the kibble and their canine guest descended on it ravenously.  

“Wow, dudes he was really hungry!”

Raph rolled his eyes. “He’s a stray Mikey. What’d ya think was gonna happen? ‘Least when we take ‘im to the shelter he’ll get three squares a day until they can find him a home.” He cocked his head, eyeing the delicate little mutt. “He’s damn skinny too. The way that waist is cinched in, ya’d swear his belly button would be rubbing a sore on his backbone. I didn’t think it was possible for anythin’ ta be that skinny. The shelter’s gonna have one shell of a job feeding ‘im up.” 

Don shook his head. “I’m not so sure Raph. Given the overall look of him, I get the impression he would’ve been more slender anyway.”

“Really?” Raph gave the mutt another dubious look. “What makes ya say that? There's nothing to em’!”

Don rolled his eyes and went back to nursing his tea. Leo had forbidden him to feed his caffeine addiction this late at night. So no coffee. “There’s still bone structure Raph. This dog’s got a more streamlined look to him. If I had to hazard a guess I'd say this is one of those breeds that are built for speed. Maybe a herder or a racing breed.” He shrugged. “Whatever he is, I can almost guarantee he'll be fast, and he'll probably be able to turn on a dime.”

A coughing noise interrupted the genius. The mutt had been eating his kibble too fast and had almost choked on it. The little dog cleared his throat and went right back to scarfing down the food as fast as possible. 

Casey shook his head. “Hey Raph, next time ya feed him, put a tennis ball in his bowl. It'll slow ‘im down enough that he won't choke on it.” He thought about it, then added. “Yeah might wanna be careful dude, he might be a little testy around his food. Him livin’ on the streets an’ all.” 

Raph leaned over to muss up his best friend's long hair. “Yah got any other pearls a wisdom there Case?”

Casey batted his hand away. “Nah, I think ya got this dude. No worries.” He tipped his chair back onto the two back legs and popped his feet up on the corner of the table away from the others.

Leo chuckled. “Your vote of confidence is much appreciated Casey.” He looked to Mikey. “Mikey, is dinner still warm?” 

The youngest beamed and leaped to the oven where a large old pot simmered away on a low heat, releasing wisps of savory steam into the air to tantalize the noses of everyone present. 

“Comin’ right up dudes!”

* * *

 

 

He was  _ so _ ready to get some sleep.

Raph heaved a tired sigh and slowly trudged up the stairs. It had been  _ way _ too long a day, and an even  _ longer _ night. His bed was calling his name, and he was more than happy to answer.

A nearly nonexistent whine sounded behind him. The dog was standing at the bottom of the stairs. Big expressive eyes stared up at him, uncertainty  and pleading mixed in equal measure. 

“Right. Dog.” He patted his thigh. “Come on then ya mutt, I ain’t waitin’ all night for ya.”

The dog shot up the stairs past him as if he’d been fired from a bow. He paused at the top. The dog cocked his head expectantly, waiting for Raph to hurry and get up there already. 

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’.” The hot head huffed, but there wasn’t any heat in it. The dog trotted along beside him, darting forward to sniff at the bedroom doors. A soft warning growl issued from under Donnie’s door, Tungsten catching wind of a new dog in the lair. The mutt made a quiet growl right back, but returned to Raph. He eyed the door warily, giving it a wide berth before moving on to check out the next door. 

“Least you got some spunk.” Raph muttered, and booted his door open. 

Held the door long enough for his guest to trot inside, then swung it closed behind them. He didn’t bother turning on the lights, just trudged in and hung his mask and gear on the wall pegs and flopped down on his bed with a tired groan. 

He wasn’t getting up for anything short of the lair being on fire. 

The clicks of the mutt’s toe nails sounded loudly off the cement floor. It sounded like he was exploring the room. Lord knew there were probably lots of new scents to smell. Something rattled at the other end of the room and the terrapin grumbled. Stupid mutt had better not eat anything. Or pee on anything.

* * *

 

 

He didn’t remember falling asleep.

He definitely didn’t remember the dog climbing up in the bed with him. But when morning came Raphael woke to find him curled up in a tight ball against the bridge of his shell. He almost fussed at the mutt. Amost. But it looked so content pressed up against him. And he couldn’t deny that he liked the warmth coming off of it. 

He hesitantly stroked the dog’s head. It gave a happy little groan and leaned into the touch. 

Raph chuckled. “You like that do ya?” He shifted his hand to scratch behind his cuddle buddy’s ear. It earned him an even louder happy moan. “Yeah, guess ya do… Damn you’re warm. Now I get why Donnie likes keepin’ his up on the couch with him. It’s like havin’ a space heater on your lap.”

The dog was waking up a bit more. He yawned, uncurling somewhat from his tight ball. Sleepy eyes regarded the turtle, then swept the room. Not seeing anything threatening, he huffed and put his head back down on Raph’s shell.

The turtle snorted. 

He could hear his brothers moving around out in the lair outside his door. The clink and clatter of Mikey banging around in the kitchen while he made breakfast. The soft hush of his brother’s feet as Donnie shuffled out of his room, Tungsten’s nails clicking along at his heels. It was still a bit of a novel experience to realize that Donnie was sleeping in his own bed most nights, not pulling all nighters in his lab. He couldn’t hear Leo, but he knew that he would hear the soft sigh of his blades cutting through the air if he got within fifteen feet of the dojo. Leo always practiced in the mornings.

Wait, was it still morning?

Raph craned his neck to see his beat up alarm clock... Eleven forty-five! Holy shell he had slept in! He groaned and rolled over. The mutt leaning against his side yipped in surprise, flopping over without the turtle’s support. He shot Raph an affronted look, then huffed and hopped out of the bed. Without a backwards glance, he trotted straight to the door. He sniffed at it, then sat up to put his forepaws on it. Testing to to see if he could get it to open. It didn’t bedge.

The dog made a miffed little growl.

“A’right, a’right.” Raph chuckled. “I’m comin’. Just don’t crap on my floor, or you’re spendin’ the rest a your day in the garage. Capiche?”

Apparently he did.

Out in the lair, the mutt stuck close to his side.

Raph was grateful for that. He could see the other three bedroom doors were open, meaning that Klunk and Tungsten were loose somewhere in the lair. He’d have to look out for his temporary pet, just in case Tungsten decided to have a go at him, or he decided to go after Klunk. 

The clanks and bangs from the kitchen had let up, and the smell of bacon permeated the still air. Seemed Mikey was almost if not completely finished with a very late breakfast. Raph wondered if anyone else had slept in anywhere near as late as he had. 

“Come on pooch. I don’t know about you but I’m hungry. So let’s get this done.” 

He opened the door out onto the sewer. The dank air assaulted his nose almost immediately, dampness pressing against his skin. He shrugged it off and gestured towards the tunnel. “Go on then. Do what needs doin’.”

The mutt chuffed and trotted out to relieve himself, the turtle on his heels with a grocery bag. It hadn’t taken them long to realize that a tunnel full of dog crap would be a dead give away that their home was somewhere close. Especially  if one of their enemies thought to realize that the turtles  _ could _ have pets and would need to take care of them. It was as good as putting up a banner saying ‘ _ the turtles are here! Come and get them! _ ’ They now hoarded grocery bags to clean up after Tungsten with. 

“Will ya get a move on already?”

The grate of the lair door sliding open was all the warning he had.

Tungsten darted out into the tunnel with a woof, his distracted owner following him with a grocery bag in hand. Everyone froze the second the resident dog’s eyes landed on the new guest pooch.  

“Uh...Don? ...What do we do?” 

Donnie made a helpless little gesture. “I don’t know uh...just, let them meet and be ready to pull them apart?”

Tungsten stalked towards the new dog, tail raised high and legs stiff. He stretched his neck out towards the mutt, nose questing after the newcomer’s scent. His hackles were semi-raised. He wasn’t yet fully aggressive, waiting to see which way this skinny stranger would jump. 

For his part, the new mutt was on the defensive. He crouched low to the ground, watching the burlier shepherd dog with a wary eye. His hackles were all the way up, tail tucked. 

The two cautiously sniffed at each other. Tungsten’s tail slowly began to wag, and the mutt’s ears pricked up. Tension began to bleed away. The skinny stray straightened up, his hackles flattening out. The two sniffed curiously along sides and across rumps.

And then proceeded to ignore each other.

“So that’s… that’s it?” Raph spluttered.

Don stared after the two animals, floored. “I...guess so. Wow, I really didn’t think they’d handle it that well!” 

“Yeah, well, apparently ya thought wrong genius.”

The purple clad turtle raised an eye ridge. “You’re complaining?” 

Raph smiled as his mutt made a playful nip at Tungsten. “Nah. I’m just glad they didn’t try an’ kill each other. You think he’ll be just as cool with Klunk?”

“I hope so.” 

Across the tunnel, the dogs had finally found a suitable place to squat. Donnie sighed. He pulled the grocery bag over his hand and used his bo staff to pole vault across the drain to the walkway on the other side.

“Come on, back to work. They aren’t going to pick up after themselves.”

* * *

 

 

Having a pet of his own was and wasn’t a novel experience.

On the one hand it was, because he’d never had a pet before. The mutt that the family had dubbed his until further notice followed him whenever he moved to a new room. While he worked out, tinkered with his bike, or vegged on the couch, the mutt would explore the room. But eventually he always ended up back at Raph’s side or, if the turtle was up and active, as close as he could safely get. 

He liked to cuddle his warm little body up in a tight little ball against Raph’s side. And Raph definitely couldn’t deny he liked the warmth. It was almost as good as sitting next to one of his human friends. All of his brothers did it, leaching warmth off of April and Casey with varying degrees of subtlety.

On the other hand, it wasn’t novel at all. It was a creature depending on him to look out for it. And he’d already experienced that as an older brother. The only difference here was that the mutt wasn’t anywhere close to as annoying as Mikey.

Didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy it though. 

When Donnie eventually emerged from his lab to feed his caffeine addiction, Tungsten made a beeline for the newcomer. Tail high and wagging ecstatically, he coaxed the stray away from Raph’s side. The two rough housed across the floor while their masters, or temporary master as the case may be, looked on. 

Donnie grinned. “Tungsten!”

The shepherd’s head snapped up, ears pricked.

“Go get your rope!” 

Tungsten gave an excited yip and dashed away. He returned quickly with a two foot length of knotted red and blue rope that Casey had provided two weeks after Tungsten had come to stay. He gave it a playful shake, dancing back out of Donnie’s reach before the turtle could grab it. 

Donnie huffed into his coffee. “Either let me play or share with our guest! Make up your mind!” 

Raph snorted. There wasn’t any genuine irritation in Donnie’s tone.

Tungsten gave another yip and shook the rope vigorously. The mutt shifted, catching Tungsten’s eye. The shepherd nosed him and dropped into a play position. A clear invitation. He pricked his ears and wagged his tail madly, encouraging their guest to play.

After a moment's indecision the slender little mutt seized the rope and threw his weight back against it.

He definitely took Tungsten by surprise, dragging the heavier shepherd forward several steps. Tungsten gave an excited growl and dragged back, trying to reclaim the ground he’d lost.

“Alright!” Raph cheered. 

Mikey jumped over the back of the couch and landed between his elder brothers. “Woo! Perfect timing! Go Raph’s dog go!” He pumped a fist as Donnie began calling encouragement to the shepherd, taking it as the opening shots of an ‘out-yell your brother’ contest. “Come on Raph’s dog, you go for it!”

Raph happily shoved his little brother off the couch. 

Mikey wasn’t the least bit perturbed. The youngest turtle grabbed an empty glass and proceeded to use it as a microphone to M.C. the impromptu event. “Yes dudes! Major league tug of war has finally hit town! In this corner we have Tungsten, the defending hometown champ! And in this corner we’ve got the challenger! With his mysterious origins, he...” 

Both of his brothers rolled their eyes and calmly planted one foot each against the youngest’s carapace and shoved. 

Mikey loosed an indignant squawk. 

Donnie and Raph slapped a high five and went back to cheering for their respective dogs.

* * *

 

 

Raphael shook his head indignantly. 

“No, ya can cut it out now! Ya ain't gettin’ nothin’!”

Big dark eyes stared up at him from the floor, unblinking. 

“I said no.” 

Large dark eyes continued to bore into fiery amber. And the amber gold gave way first. 

“Damnit. A’right ya flea bitten mutt, take th’ damn slice before I change my mind!” He tossed the pizza slice into the air and watched the ebony mutt make a flying leap to catch it before grumpily getting another slice for himself out of the box.

Across the room, Leo and Donnie stared in open mouthed shock.

“Did he just get out stubborned by a dog?”

“He totally did.” Mikey sing-songed as he trotted past with a shell cell held high in triumph. “And I  got the video footage to prove it!”

* * *

 

 

“And I’m _telling_ you, he’s not going to be able to keep up.”

Raph stared at his brother. He’d been gathering up his gear to go on patrol when his genius brother had approached him with a sturdy backpack and pushed it into his hands without preamble. He looked down at the stray sitting quietly by his side.

“Donnie, have ya  _ seen _ this dog? He runs  _ circles _ ‘round the lot of us! An’ you’re trying ta tell me ya don’t think he can keep up?”

Donatello crossed his arms. “No, I’m telling you he can’t keep up with the climbing, grappling, and  _ jumping _ across roof tops. At least not without training, and even then that would be a hard sell. It’ll be better for everyone if you just carry him.”

“You want me to make him into a purse dog!”

Coming out of the dojo just in time to hear the tail end of the conversation, Michelangelo took one look at Raph holding the backpack and the patiently waiting dog at his side and gave a wild cackle.

Raph growled, two seconds away from hurling the backpack at his baby brother’s head. “Mikey, I swear ta God…!”

“Settle down Mikey.” Leo breezed in from lord only knew where, already kitted out for a night on patrol. He patted Raph’s shoulder as he passed, the firm touch settling the hot head. “Let’s get moving, we’re already late. Get the dog in the bag and let’s get out of here.”

Still grumbling, Raph squatted down and gently settled the black coated stray in the pack. Donnie had put a board in the bottom to give him something to stand on, and had padded the bag with a warm fleece blanket. The dog went easily enough into the pack. He curled up into a tight ball at the bottom and cuddled into the blanket with a content chuff. 

Raph smiled and shrugged the pack on over his shell. 

He’d never admit it to the others, but he was beginning to like the long haired pooch. If Master Splinter were amenable, he wouldn’t mind keeping him around. He’d need a name though. Maybe…? 

He hurriedly quashed those thoughts. 

Master Splinter had already made his position on the matter quite clear. One of the mission goals tonight was to drop off the stray at the shelter. Hell, the only reason Donnie had been allowed to keep Tungsten was because the dog had all but surgically attached himself to the genius turtle’s hip. And Klunk? Klunk had just moved in, there had never been a question of if the cat would stay or not. Raph snorted at the thought. He would’ve loved to see anyone  _ try _ to boot the orange tabby out! But this new stray didn’t fit into either category.

Better not to let himself get too attached.

Pushing the depressing thoughts aside, the hothead jogged to catch up with his brothers. Donnie closed the door to the lair behind him, and the four set off through the sewers at a quick trot.

“Jeez Leo, what’s the hurry?”

Leo shot a disapproving look over his shoulder. “That huge weapons deal with the Purple Dragons is supposed to go down at the docs tonight. You really want to blow a month’s worth of work by being late to the party?”

Raphael growled out a curse. He’d completely forgotten about the weapon’s deal they’d been watching. Word on the street was that someone had gotten their hands on some  _ very _ high powered weapons. Like  _ military _ grade and military  _ prototype _ high grade. And they were looking to sell to the highest bidder. Which could only spell bad news for anyone hapless enough to get in the way of their buyers. So it would probably be for the best if the weapons deal were interrupted. 

_ Preferably _ with extreme prejudice. 

Donnie was checking the watch hidden under his wrist wrap. “Leo, if we’re going to make it on time we’re going to have to haul shell.”

Their leader nodded to let Don know he’d heard, already swinging up a ladder to open a manhole. “We’ll make better time topside. Raph, we’ll have to drop your dog off afterwards. Move it guys, we literally have  _ no _ time tonight.”

Trying to hide how pleased he was to have the dog a little longer, Raph shoved Mikey up the ladder. “Ya heard fearless, haul shell!”

* * *

 

 

“It’s just a few Purple Dragons, you said! How hard could it be, you said! The sellers won’t be a problem, you said!”

Raphael grimaced.

Ok, he deserved that. He’d definitely earned his brother’s ire tonight. And not just Donnie either. Leo was going to rip him a new one when this was all over, so would Donnie. Maybe even  _ Mikey _ . And he’d stand there and take it all without complaint, because this was totally, one hundred percent his fault. 

They’d arrived at the docks just in time to see the seller’s transferring the weapons to the Purple Dragon’s  trucks, the sale already completed. Leo had wanted to wait. To put a GPS tracker on the trucks and let it lead them back to the Purple Dragons’ main weapons cache. They’d clean up the sellers, then follow the truck and destroy the weapons. Take out two birds with one stone. It was a good plan. It probably would’ve worked. Except Raphael was a hothead. 

And apparently he couldn’t even follow the  _ simplest _ of instructions.

He’d leapt in and started a fight at the first opportunity. And his brothers had had no choice but to follow him into the fray, or risk him getting his fool head shot off. It might still have been ok, but fate is never very kind to turtles. 

Apparently she likes to watch them squirm.

Had he given them a chance to finish scouting ahead, they  _ might _ have seen it, and avoided this mess. They could’ve picked people off a few at a time, and maybe kept them from raising the alarm. But he didn’t. And now they had to deal with the consequences of his blunder. 

The Purple Dragons had had reinforcements waiting barely a block away. About fifty of them in fact. That put the number at almost sixty Purple Dragons, give or take. And that’s not even taking the ten sellers into account, who had another twenty people squirreled away in case the Dragons tried anything funny. 

So, yeah, they were a little out-numbered. 

Raphael ducked under a punch and kicked the man away, slicing at another with his sais. He yelled across the fight at Donatello’s shell. 

“Believe me Don, I’m well aware this one’s all on me. Ya can yell at me later.” He caught a length of chain on his crossed sais before it could crack down over his head. “If we survive that is!” 

He lost track of how many men he fought. How many dropped like stones at his hands. There seemed to be a never ending ocean of them. Surrounding him and his brothers at every turn. They’d started out fighting back to back, but the push and pull of the fight had separated them. The turtle nearest to him was Donatello, and there was a solid fifteen feet in between them. Fifteen feet, and more bodies than he could shake a stick at. He was just glad Leo and Mikey had wedged the gas pedals and sent the two trucks full of weapons careening off the end of the dock and into the harbor. They wouldn’t have stood a chance if those experimental weapons had been in play. 

A knife sliced across the meat of his thigh and he stumbled.

They still might not make it.

He snarled and caught the next slice from the knife in his sai, twisting his grip to strip the  blade right out of his attacker’s hand. The man stumbled back, shocked, and Raph took the chance to turn and bury the blade to the hilt in the shoulder of the guy going after him with a broken piece of pipe. He never even saw the other two guys moving in. He didn’t even feel the twin thuds slam into the back of his head and his neck. 

All he saw was black.

* * *

 

 

“Raphael!”

Leonardo screamed the name at the top of his lungs as he watched three men drag his brother to the edge of the pier, bound hand and foot. Raphael wasn’t fighting them. Leo didn’t even think he was conscious.  The three men each planted a boot against the turtle and shoved him off the end of the pier. Dropped him into the dark depths like so much garbage. 

Leo gave an enraged cry and flung himself into the fight. 

He could hear the other two doing the same. Their brother was in danger. And just like that, they ceased to be anything other than fighting machines. Willing to do whatever they had to do to protect one of their own. 

The fight still took way too long.

Time seemed to move molasses slow, though he couldn’t have spent more than fifteen minutes beating the fear of God into those who tried to stop him from getting to the end of the pier. But finally, Leo was there. He glanced back once. Donnie and Mikey were more than capable of mopping up the last ten or so. They didn’t need his help. 

He dove off the pier.

The water was icy. His first instinct was to gasp at the cold, but he muscled the reaction back and held onto his air. 

Even for a creature born to be amphibious, visibility was low. Four feet down, the water was black as pitch. His heart was breaking as the tactical side of his brain realized how hopeless his search was. But he still pulled out a waterproof light and started to search the blackness for his brother. 

Again and again he gulped air from the surface and dove back down. And each time another small part of him died, as the murder of his sibling became more and more real. He had always known that, barring a freak accident, he or Raphael would be the first to die. It was almost impossible not to. One of them would push a brother out of harm’s way, or Raph would rush in without thinking, and that would be it. It was inevitable.

The knowledge that he was right was a very cold comfort.

Donatello and Michelangelo were waiting on the end of the dock when he surfaced again. Their faces were grim. They knew. But they had hoped beyond hope that maybe,  _ maybe _ Leo could pull off a miracle. That maybe this would be one of those times when turtle luck would let them catch a break.

He shook his head.

Tears slipped down Mikey’s cheeks, and dripped into the dark water of the river. He hiccuped and looked to Donnie. “Donnie, can you… can you gps his phone? Maybe…?”

Donnie shook his head, but reached for his shell cell anyway. “Mikey…”

The youngest objected vehemently. “No Donnie! We can’t… we can’t  _ leave _ him out here Donnie. We  _ can’t _ .” He broke down in tears, resting his forehead on his knees, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Leonardo pulled himself up out of the water and knelt beside him. 

He rubbed his baby brother’s shell, trying to offer comfort even though he knew it would never be enough. Michelangelo clung to him, not noticing or not caring that Leo was soaked. The older terrapin cuddled him close, and rocked him. 

“GPS his phone Donatello.” He whispered hoarsely. “We can’t leave him out here. I won’t have someone like  _ Saki _ , or worse  _ Bishop _ , laying hands on his body.” 

Donnie nodded, hands shaking on the shell cell. “Got it.”

Time seemed to drag while they waited for a location. Finally, the phone made a far to cheerful chime. Orange and blue clad heads snapped up, twin looks of determination settling on their faces. 

“Where?”

The techno turtle was staring at his phone, olive green skin pale. “He...He’s a couple hundred feet downstream…” He pointed to his left. “This side of the river, about two hundred and eighty feet that way.”

Leonardo stood, pulling his little brothers with him. “Then let’s go get him.”

They hurried downstream toward the bay, the idea that someone might take their brother’s body lending wings to their tired feet. Sharp eyes raked the riverbank, desperate to find him. Hoping that they wouldn’t. And hating themselves for it. 

No one saw a thing.

They went farther downstream, thinking that perhaps the phone had fallen out of Raph’s belt, and maybe his body had traveled farther. Nothing. The thought of returning to the lair empty handed. Of going back to master Splinter without even a body to bury spurred them to keep looking. To retrace their steps back towards the pier and the signal from the phone. 

Michelangelo froze midstep. “...you guys hear that?” 

The others cocked their heads, listening. They expected to hear humans, maybe dock workers, or Purple Dragons come back for another round. The sound came again. 

A soft whine floating feather light through the night air.  

The youngest turtle raced ahead, scrambling over debris and around rocks and thick dock supports. His ninja sure feet never once slipped in the dappled shadows. Seconds later he gave a yell, and raced back upstream along the water's edge. The other two rushed to join him.

Deep in the shadows of a pier, tired but hopeful chocolate eyes watched them approach. 

Braced against a dock pylon, was the stray Raph had been carrying in his backpack. In his teeth, he gripped Raphael’s blood red bandana. A bandana that was still attached to the unconscious turtle laying in the semi-shallow water. The mutt made another quiet whine and pulled, lifting Raphael’s head up a little higher out of the water that lapped at the turtle’s chin. He wasn’t strong enough to pull the turtle out. But he could keep his head up. He stared at them with pleading eyes, begging them to help.

Mikey flew over the last few rocks separating them and pressed a hand against Raph’s throat.

His shoulder’s slumped and he choked on a sob. “He’s alive!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, relief overrunning his common sense. “He’s alive!” 

He shoved his hands under Raph’s shoulders and pulled. 

Leo and Don splashed into the river, gripping either side of Raphael’s shell as if it were a stretcher and helping Mikey lift him up out of the frigid water. The stray clumsily scrambled out of their way, hobbling on cold numbed paws. Raphael’s emerald green skin was pale. He was cold as ice, and his breathing was shallow. 

“He’s too cold.” Donnie worried.

Leonardo shrugged the muscular turtle across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. “Mikey, get the battle shell and bring it as close as you can. Jack up the heat while you’re at it.” 

Mikey raced away. 

Leo glanced at the shivering little dog at his side. “Donnie, if there’s room, put Raph’s dog in your duffel. I know Master Splinter said to drop him off at the shelter, but he saved Raph’s life tonight. We don’t have time to drop him off, and I’m sure as shell not leaving him out here. ” 

The stray went easily into the bag, too exhausted to even grumble at Donnie’s clumsy handling. He just shouldered the tech in Donnie’s bag aside and curled up into a ball. 

The two turtles climbed back up onto the pier and hurried in between the warehouses. Michelangelo met them three buildings over. The heating in the battle shell had been turned up as high as it would go, and the thick wool blankets the turtles kept in the truck for emergencies had been set out. 

As soon as his brothers were in the car, Mikey stomped on the gas and sent them careening back through the city towards home.

* * *

 

 

It had been touch and go when they’d arrived. 

They had rushed Raph into the infirmary the second they’d gotten home, desperate to warm him up before the cold did irreparable damage. Turtles were cold blooded after all, and at best case scenario Raph would sleep for a week and wake up starving and irritable. At worst, he could slip into a coma-like hibernation that he  _ definitely _ hadn’t been ready for. 

It had scared the whiskers off of Splinter the first time his infant turtles had hibernated through the winter, and had always been a source of worry through the winters that followed. They’d grown out of it around age six, but they’d never  _ lost _ the ability. The family had learned the hard way that sudden extreme cold could trigger the reaction in them as adults. Unprepared, hibernation stripped them of what little fat they had, then stripped away their muscles. It left them weak, and they could potentially  _ starve _ to death without medical help. 

Raph had managed to avoid that this time. 

Barely. 

But in the scuffle, Donnie’s duffel bag was left forgotten by the elevator. It was only after Donnie had declared Raph stable that Leonardo had remembered the stray that had saved his brother. 

No one noticed their leader grab one of the warm towels brought straight from a quick spin in the dryer. They had been meant for Raph, but he was warm and dry and piled under more quilts than Leo had known they owned. One towel wasn’t going to make a difference. 

And no one noticed when he slipped out of the infirmary. 

Donnie’s duffel was right where the genius turtle had left it. Still zipped up tight. Leo cast a silent prayer to the heavens and opened up the bag.

Exhausted dark chocolate eyes gazed back at him. 

Raph’s dog looked pathetic. His long jet black fur was soaked through. It clung to his slender frame like a wet sheet, accentuating the tuck of his belly and the flare of his hipbones. Making him look almost skeletal. Small shivers racked the delicate animal’s frame occasionally, and he curled himself into an impossibly tighter ball at the first touch of cool air, in an effort to preserve what little heat he had left. 

The dog was well on his way to hypothermia because of them.

Leonardo gently lifted the pretzel knot of  stray dog out of Donnie’s duffel bag. He wrapped him in the warm towel. The stray whined gratefully. The leader cradled the icy body closer and carried him toward the infirmary. 

His family sat around the room, physically and emotionally exhausted after such a long night. Tungsten lay on the floor at Donatello’s feet. Whining occasionally in his worry for his family. Clunk had settled himself across Mikey’s shoulders like a shawl. Leo hated to bring his family more trouble. But he simply didn’t have the knowledge that Donatello did.

“We’re not quite done yet Donnie.”

The genius turtle paled at the sight of the dark head nestled against Leo’s chest. “Shell, we forgot all about him! Is he even still alive?”

“Almost hypothermic from our carelessness, but yes, he’s alive.”

Splinter rose and came to watch as Donatello cared for the stray on a side table. “My son, why is this stray still in our care?”

Leo sighed. “It was my fault Master Splinter. We were running late to the weapons drop, and I didn’t want to miss our window. Raph had the dog in a backpack, and I told him that we could drop the dog off afterwards. That stopping that experimental tech from getting out on the streets was more important. And I stand by my decision. The weapons they had in the trucks were high grade energy weapons. Things I would expect to see  _ Bishop’s _ people use. If those had gotten onto the street a lot of people would’ve died.”

Splinter nodded. “I understand your reasoning my son. Your logic was sound. I take it then that Raphael was still wearing the backpack when he was cast into the river? And that the dog was still inside?” 

“He was sensei. I don’t know how the dog got out, or how Raphael made it to shore. But when we found them, the dog was holding Raphael’s head up out of the water by his bandanna tails. He was ankle deep in icy cold water and could’ve just walked away. But he braced himself against one of the dock’s pylons and stayed there for at  _ least _ two hours making sure that Raph didn’t drown. He saved Raph’s life. I couldn’t in good conscience leave him out there to die of the cold.”

“Nor should you be expected to.” Splinter agreed. He eyed the stray on Donnie’s tabletop. 

The animal’s shivering had increased, his body trying to make up the heat it had lost. He’d refused to uncurl from his tight ball, even with the turtle’s cajoling. So Donnie had started rubbing at the long fur with the towel in an attempt to at least get him dry. Maybe the friction from the towel would help get the blood flowing again and warm him up faster. 

The elderly rat gently moved his son aside.

Without a word, he removed the dog from the towel and slid the damp canine inside his robe. Curled into a ball a little larger than an oblong basketball, the dog made Splinter look pregnant once his robes were closed around it. But when dealing with hypothermia skin to skin was always the best policy. The heat coming from his belly and abdomen was more than sufficient for the task, and his thick fur held heat better than any blanket or towel. Arms cradled around the animal, he felt it shift a little, nestling into his fur and pressing closer to his warmth. 

“I will look after our guest Donatello. Rest. All of you. You have all been through enough tonight.”

* * *

 

 

Raphael woke with a headache.

He grimaced, one hand coming up to cradle his aching skull. His fingers didn’t encounter any bandages, so that was a good sign. Given the way his head was aching, he wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find a crack the size of the grand canyon in his skull. 

And knowing Donnie, it could be patched up with whatever he had to hand. 

Such items could include, but were not limited to: stitching up wounds with dental floss, making a makeshift sling for a broken and splinted arm out of a length of chain and a carabiner clip, and making the splint for said broken arm out of several old boards and some rusty nuts and bolts. 

Yeah, that had been an interesting night.

Deciding the resulting migraine would be worth it, Raph turned his head. Michelangelo was fast asleep in an old hardback chair from the kitchen. He had his legs thrown up on the bed, his head tilted back, and an open comic book tented on his chest. Raphael wondered how long Mikey had been there. Probably longer than Raphael would’ve been happy with.

“Hey. Move your fat shell Mikey. You snore like a damn chainsaw.”

The orange clad turtle promptly fell out of his chair. “What the shell happened...Raph! Holy... You’re awake!” He was up off the floor in an instant. Before Raph could say a word, the youngest had rushed to the door and flung it open, shouting at the top of his not inconsiderable lungs. “Guys! He’s awake! Get your shells up here, Raph’s  _ finally _ awake!” 

Finally? That didn’t bode well.

Mikey bounced back to his bedside like a hyperactive kitten, eyes alight with excitement. “How do you feel? Are you feeling ok? Should I go and get Donnie for you? I could, he’s just downstairs and…” 

“ _ Mikey _ . Chill.”

“Chill. Right. I can do that!”

Raph raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Ya sure about that chucklehead?” 

“...maybe…”

Raphael laughed, and then promptly groaned when the laugh made his headache worse. “Do me a favor Mike? Don’t make me laugh for a while. I got th’ mother a all headaches.” 

“Not surprising all things considered.” Donatello slid into place on the other side of his bed, already checking his brother over. “It shouldn’t last long. You  _ will _ feel like you're starving though, you’ve been asleep for almost a week.”

“I  _ already _ feel like I’m starvin’.”

Mikey scrambled out of his chair again. “I can fix that! I’ll go get food. Soup only, right Donnie?” He didn’t wait for the brainiac to answer, they’d been through this often enough that they all knew the drill. He slipped past Leonardo at the door and raced down the stairs to the kitchen. The three shook their heads. 

Some things never changed.

Leo smiled softly and leaned against the doorframe. “You gave us quite the scare. Don’t you  _ ever _ do that again.  _ Please _ . That hour we spent thinking you were dead was the longest of our  _ lives _ .” 

“Believe me, I wasn’t tryin’ to scare ya  _ this _ time.” He cocked his head at his brother curiously. “Where’s Master Splinter?” 

“I am here my son.” The elderly rat stepped past his oldest son, a hand tracing along Leo’s arm as he passed. 

Weaving gracefully between their legs, the little black stray followed. 

He'd made a full recovery in the days following the incident at the docks, and a week of good food had only helped him further. His coat had taken on a healthy shine, and he'd even managed to put on a little weight. Claws clicking on the stone floor, he made a beeline for the bed and hopped up. The little mutt had claimed a spot against Raph’s side on the second day, and nothing but the necessaries had been able to tear him away from it. He definitely hadn't expected Raph to be  _ awake _ today.

Plumed tail wagging at ninety miles an hour, the stray made a happy whine and cuddled up to the startled terrapin’s chest.

“Hey pooch! What are you still doin’ here?” He greeted.

Donnie grinned, fondling the ears of his own dog seated at his feet. “Seems he took a shine to your crabby shell.” The techno turtle teased.

“What?”

“He saved your life Raphael.” Leo folded his arms, leaning more heavily on the door frame. “He was in the backpack when the Purple Dragons threw you off the end of the pier. When we found you, you’d washed up under a dock downstream. He'd wiggled out of your pack and was braced against a pilon. The mutt had your bandana tails in his teeth and was holding your head up so you didn't drown. He kept you alive for about two hours till we could get to you. And he’s stuck close to you ever since.”

Donnie poked at Raph’s arm. “I think he's decided to keep you Raph.”

“Seriously? Why the shell would ya pick me pooch?” 

The stray yipped and wriggled in his grasp, nuzzling the taciturn turtle’s hands. The hothead’s face softened, and he buried his fingers in the stray’s long coat. Almost sheepishly, he looked to Splinter.

“Can I keep ‘im Dad?”

The elderly rat’s whiskers twitched in amusement. “He will need a name.” 

Raphael’s face lit up. “Really? You mean it Sensei?”

“Of course.” 

Leo grinned at his younger brother’s obvious delight. “So what do you think Raph? What are you going to call your shadow? You only get one shot, so you better pick a good one the first time around.”

Raph grinned and cuddled his new pet. “I think you guys already named ‘im. He’s been shadowing me since he got here, I guess Shadow is as good a name as any.”

Out in the hall with a bowl of soup, Mikey gave a delighted cackle. “Hey Raph, you’re gonna have to work on your stealth once you’re back on your feet! You’re really going to need all the help you can get?”

Donnie sighed. “I’m going to regret asking this… why?” 

“Because he’s going to have a shell of a time hiding in a  _ Shadow _ that small!”

“MIKEY!”

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> So tell me what you think! And be on the lookout for another chapter coming soon! 
> 
> Until next time darlings! ;)


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